


You're My Remedy

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: Sperek Verse [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Excessive Use of Baby Boy and Pretty Boy, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Our Boys Are So Bad At Feelings, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: Reid and Morgan have been best friends for years, but there has always been an odd spark between them that seems to run so much deeper. This is the story of how these two finally find their way to each other.





	1. The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly canon up to a point and then veers off into non-canon compliance.
> 
> Title from Clarity, though I prefer the Sam Tsui version.
> 
> I am fudging some things so that JJ's wedding works for this story the way I want it to, rarther than how it happened in the episode. Hope no one minds! Also, as I can't remember if he ever actually did dance, for the sake of this fic, the team has  
> never actually seen Reid try to dance.

* * *

**_It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels._ \- Virginia Woolf**

* * *

Never let it be said that Rossi cannot throw one hell of a party on short notice. JJ's wedding is in full swing. The Bride and Groom are glowing beneath the sparkling lights and night sky. They are wearing their emotions on their sleeves, hearts beating with loving palpitations as they blush and stumble through the social niceties of congratulations on their nuptials. The team has made their way in individual excursions to add their own spin on the words of happily ever after. 

Everyone except Dr. Spencer Reid. He is currently sitting on a folding chair in front of a small table. He is slumped low in the structure, hands clasped in his lap as he absently picks at the bed of one of his nails. It has created a faint ache in his cuticle that seems far more interesting than the infectious happiness wafting off the newly married couple. Though anyone that -knows- him, knows that not to be true. He is just as happy for his teammate and friend as anyone else, just less inclined to make his way to the head of the line to congratulate them. 

He will speak his peace at a time convenient to him and none of them will think lesser of him for it.

"Pretty Boy." The familiar gravel of his best friend's voice cuts through the overwhelming sea of thoughts plaguing the genius. Not enough to immediately draw his eyes from the task at hand, but enough to cause his mouth to quirk upward ever so slightly in the right corner. "What are you doing all the way over here, all on your lonesome, kid?" And .. there it is. The single word Reid would've been happy not to hear tonight, already falling from the lips of his best friend. In some macabre corner of his overactive mind, he envisions the word KID as a corporeal thing he could forcefully shove back down Morgan's throat in hopes of never hearing it pass his lips again in reference to himself. 

"Given the fact that I'm not standing, that there is a table in front of me, and a chair beneath me, one could easily assume I'm sitting, Morgan." Reid doesn't have to be looking at his friend to know that his eyes have widened a little in shock. It still happens whenever he shows a little bite back toward the senior agent, and deep down Reid loves it. The fact that he can still shock his best friend in little ways is so much fun!

"Wow, Dr. Reid is stating the obvious. Must be something serious." There is, of course, a teasing tone to the words, but there is also an obvious undercurrent of genuine concern that also never fails to amaze him. The fact that Morgan actually cares has always been a wonder. In truth, he never expected to make a friend of the other agent, so the endurance of said friendship baffles him on many levels. He knows that he is difficult and off putting in many ways, to many people. The fact that his team put in the time to get to know him is something he will treasure for the rest of his life.

"Or, I could just be tired and stating the obvious is a side effect of that." He finally manages to stop picking at his nails, forcing himself to look up and make eye contact with his best friend. "Or maybe I'm feeling sassy and all of this means nothing." He flashes one of his rare not-shy smiles and watches the way Morgan lights up. Because for some strange reason, they get along best when they're messing with each other. 

"Ohh, feelin' sassy, Pretty Boy? Keep forgettin' you have that in you." He smiles though he also quickly drops his gaze. Despite the friendship and familial connection he feels with the team, some part of him is still afraid that they are constantly profiling him. (And probably disappointed in what they come up with.) "There's only one cure for all that ... sass, Reid." The playful, teasing tone amps up and Reid is immediately on edge. Whatever Morgan has planned, it's gonna be something aimed at pulling him right out of his comfort zone. 

"I wasn't aware sass could be -cured-, Morgan. So tell me, why haven't you undergone treatment yet?" He stares at his nail bed, eyes narrowed faintly as he tries to see in the low light of the 'romantic atmosphere' created for the occasion. He's actually only vaguely aware of the rejoinder, of the fact that he's still pushing back against his friend in this friendly little dance of theirs. One of the only dances he's actually good at. 

"Just keep workin' that sass, kid." There's a wave of fond amusement and Reid knows that he has lost this round as he loses most of them. Because he can feel the dusty blush across his pale features even as he ducks his head a little with the false hope that the greatest profiler he's ever known will somehow miss the actions. (And yes, many would consider Gideon or Rossi the greatest, but he just can't. Gideon left and that has tarnished him. Rossi .. is great, but Derek is Derek and that's all to be said for that.) "See, Pretty Boy, I've -tried- to help you with the cure, but you always just bow out and refuse. Not this time." 

The sound of a chair scraping pulls Reid from his thoughts, draws his attention to Morgan standing and rounding the table until he's hovering over him. He can feel the general speeding of his heart, the way it always does when his friend is just this side of too close. Especially when he's over him like this. It causes Reid to jump to his feet, pushing backward just a bit so that he can try and regain a part of his personal space. It is always a conundrum when this happens. Because he wants to push closer to the older man, but he also just wants to escape. The instincts of fight, flight, or fuck ramp up until he feels almost as if he will vibrate with it. 

"Uh, whatever this cure is, I'm sure it's a bad idea. In fact, maybe I'll just keep my mouth shut and we won't have to --"

"Reid. When do you -ever- keep your mouth shut? Now, come on, man." Before he can think of anything to say, to do, he feels a hand grabbing him by the shoulder. Turning him until Morgan is now hovering -behind- him as he guides him toward the makeshift dance floor. His feet feel leaden and his heart has sped up even further. He wonders if it is due to the impending embarassment or the fact that Morgan is that damn close, yet again. Every time he turns around when the team is involved, lately, it feels as if Morgan is -right there-. He has formulated many theories for this but has been able to prove none of them.

"Morgan." He's struggling to keep the pleading note out of his voice because he knows he will get no respect from his friend if he begs, but he's so damn close to doing just that. "Derek. We both know this is a bad idea. I can't dance. Everyone says I can't dance." He's rambling now, of course. Trying to make some last ditch effort to stall the inevitable since Derek gets what he wants and apparently, he wants Reid to dance. 

"Just because someone says something, don't make it true." Morgan is doing his best to inject that Alpha Male, I Know What I'm Saying swagger into his voice and it sends a shiver skating down Reid's spine. Which makes no sense to the man, because he feels far too warm all over to be shivering. "You've made me wait years, Spence. I'm done with that. Now get your skinny white ass out on the floor." Again, that Alpha Male sense of Command to his voice, though it's also tempered with the bonds of friendship that keep it from being an out and out order.

"Just remember that I am doing this under duress, Derek. And if -anyone- makes a single disparaging remark, I'm out of here faster than ... something really fast." He groans internally at the lameness of the comment. It's not often he's lost for words to describe any given situation, but it's also not often he's being forced toward something like a dance floor without the ability to say no. Because he honestly believes that there's no way that Morgan will let him out of this.

"Spence." The hand on his shoulder tightens a moment before he finds himself spun around to face the older man. Who looks stricken and sad, though he cannot understand why. What had he said wrong to shatter the playfulness of the moment!? "Come on, Pretty Boy. You gotta know that I call you that for a reason, right? You also gotta know that the people here that matter, care about you. There's no way that anyone is going to say anything. But even if they did, it would be friendly and caring. Now quit stalling." 

The genius chuffs a breath and openly glares at the press of bodies on the dance floor. He can smell the sweat of exertion coupled with the crisp, clean scent of a cool breeze. But above all of that, he can smell the basic cocktail of things he has come to associate with Morgan. Sweat, musk, cologne, lotion of some sort. He can also feel the heat radiating from the larger man as he steps close to his back. It's a wall of comfort and discomfort, all in one.

"Fine." The single word is clipped and Reid does nothing to make it sound better. To soften it. Because he is NOT okay with this and he wants his best friend to understand that. Dancing under duress is the last thing he thought he would be doing tonight. 

The moment he makes the transition from path to floor, he feels sweat gathering in his palms, on his brow. The hand on his shoulder tightens for a moment before it slides down to the small of his back and causes him to jerk in surprise. Causes the hand to accidentally slip and graze the curve of his backside and leaves him feeling lightheaded in too many ways. The hand reappears on the small of his back even as an arm suddenly snakes around his hips from behind. 

"What the hell are you doing, Morgan!?" His voice breaks in several spots, his hands flying down to push ineffectually against the arm around him even as he feels a gust of breath across the nape of his neck. It takes him far too long to realize that it's his friend chuckling. 

"Calm down, Baby Boy. Now that I -finally- got you to do this, did you really think I was just gonna .. what .. sit back and -watch-? Relax, Spencer." Later, once his breathing has calmed down and his brain seems to be operating on it's usual level, he will realize that Morgan did -not- call him **Pretty Boy** , he called him **BABY** Boy. But right now, all he can focus on is the feel of the arm around him, the heat behind him, the scent still overwhelming him as he's guided toward the very center of the floor. A perfect position for others to witness his utter humiliation. 

"Actually, yes. I assumed that's -exactly- what you were going to do. Find a good spot on the sidelines to laugh at me from." His voice has gone slightly deeper than usual in his anger and fear and he couldn't begin to modulate it even if he wanted to. He's far too stressed. The arm around his waist tightens for a second before he finds himself being spun around to face the shorter, stronger man again.

"Spence .... is that really what you think, man? That I brought you out here just to make fun of you and laugh, Baby Boy?!" There's an edge of hurt to the words and Reid regrets putting that in Morgan's voice, but he's not going to try and lie about it. Not gonna try and cover it up. So, he's already nodding, though he's dropped his gaze because he cannot stomach the thought of looking at his friend as they talk about this. He's not overtly self conscious most of the time these days, but he still has his moments. And this is one of them. 

"Well .. yeah. I mean, you're always teasing and laughing at me, Morgan, and everyone says I can't dance and if I can't, then the only reason you could possibly want to see me do it, is to make fun of me. Right?" It seems like the logical conclusion for the information presented, but the moment the words are out of his mouth, he can see that they are a false conclusion. Because Morgan's face immediately colors with pain and unease. He has somehow hurt his friend.

"No, Reid. Just ... just no." He almost whimpers when the arm disappears from his waist. When he feels Morgan stepping away from him a bit. He had wanted that distance, but now that he's gotten it, he feels the absence so keenly that it is a physical pain deep inside. "Yeah, I tease you Pretty Boy .. relentlessly sometimes, but never in a way that is meant to actually -hurt- you. Name one time I teased you in a way that was actually mean spirited." Reid's mind immediately explodes with facts, dates, instances, but he only manages to mumble one.

"When I lost my qualifications for a gun. You gave me that stupid whistle despite how badly I was hurting over it, and then I had to shoot the Unsub after Hotch kicked me several times and I really just wanted to shove that whistle down your throat instead of shoving it into your hand." He's rambling. Speeding through a painful memory that he will never forget because of his eidetic memory. 

And he knows, okay? He -knows- that Derek didn't -mean- the whistle thing to be so damn painful, but it was, and as with all the crap he endured in high school, it's going to stay with him until the day he dies. 

"Spence ..." The edge of pain is now finely honed and sharp enough that Reid feels as if he has been cut in several places. He resists the urge to press a palm to his chest and see if it comes back bloody. "That was not meant to be cruel or mean spirited, kid. I was just trying to tease you, trying to take your mind off of it. I was giving you something to be mad at instead of feeling bad. I'm sorry if it hurt you, Baby Boy, that wasn't my intention." Morgan drops his glance and that is more unsettling than anything else has been because the man is confident in the face of everything. There should be nothing Reid is capable of that should shake that unshakable confidence. 

"I --" Baby Boy. His mind short circuits for a second. Baby Boy. Not Pretty Boy, but **Baby Boy** , just as he calls Garcia Baby Girl. This triggers something in him. It causes a low heat to flare in his veins, causes his insides to flutter and shudder a little. It has to be the reason for the insanity that suddenly grips him. "Okay." Gently, without hesitation or the same level of nerves he had felt earlier, he grabs one of Morgan's hands and turns to try and make himself comfortable on the dance floor. 

Just before he turns to begin walking, he sees a look of surprise on his friend's face, followed by that soft, sweet smile that crinkles at the edges of his eyes and makes him look so unbelievably handsome. That smile -almost- makes this worth it. He turns back toward the older man once they are in position and nearly chokes on his own breath when Morgan's hands grab at him. Long, capable, strong fingers fan out across his hips, covering them almost possessively. He assumes that this is simply a part of his best friend's Alpha Male personality. That even when faced with this kind of position with a male friend, he cannot help but stake some kind of subconscious claim. God knows Morgan has done it before in other, subtle ways. Especially if an Unsub paid too much attention to him. 

"You got this, Reid." The words are playful and yet encouraging. As is the gentle squeeze of his hand once they are in position. Reid sucks in a deep breath to steady himself, eyes downcast because he cannot stand the thought of seeing Morgan watching him. He will see disappointment, humor, and other things he is not built to stand coming from the older man. So, he focuses on the top two open buttons of his shirt, instead. Carefully traces the circles with his eyes as he allows himself to begin moving. 

It's slow and unsure at first. A sway of his hips even as Morgan's hands appear there, holding tight. He pushes into those large palms only to immediately pull back, circle into their grasp and then nearly break free. His shoulders loosen next, following the almost graceful line of his body as he allows himself to count the beats of the music. They do not flow through him as he has often heard others describe, but they do guide his movements. He feels like a metronome, keeping perfect beat with the click of his hips, spacing each note of the song he doesn't recognize but allows his body to bend to. 

After a moment, he finds himself struggling with what to do with his hands. He is conflicted. Part of him wants to push Morgan away, part of him wants to reach down and grip the hands on his hips and never let go. He compromises. His hands raise, flat palms pressed tenderly against the flat expanse of Morgan's chest. He can feel the elevated rhythm of the other man's heart as they move together in a wild, undefined beat. 

"See, Baby Boy? Told you. Just because idiots said it, don't make it true. You dance fine. Really know how to use them hips." Morgan narrows his eyes in a flirtatious way, as if doing everything in his power to get a better look at the hips he's still holding, and it makes Reid blush so very deeply. In fact, it seems Derek does this rather often, trying to find ways to make him blush and stammer.

"I --"

"I know they say hips don't lie, but yours might be fibbin' a bit, kid." Spencer jerks away from Morgan. Pulls his hands off his chest and his hips out of his grasp as he whirls around. A man roughly Hotch's age is standing a few feet from them, swaying a little unsteadily as he eyes the two of them almost viciously. "You're too tall to be dancing like that, man. You look like a mess, and not the hot kind." The words are obviously a bully's drunken tactic, but the logic of that simply will not penetrate the fog of Reid's mind. He -told- Morgan that if -anyone- said anything, he would be out of here as fast as possible and this asshole has officially popped off.

"I --" He still cannot manage to get a thought across as he begins to look around frantically. Trying to spot the proper escape route.

"You know, I -really- don't remember anyone asking for your opinion, pal. In fact, I don't even know who the hell you are. So! How about you turn around and get the hell out of here?" Morgan never raises his voice, just relies on that confident, in charge tone that is smooth and simple in volume. The voice he uses to unsettle an Unsub or command a pissed off LEO to follow directions. The man bristles and scoffs, his eyes flashing back toward Reid.

"I'm a friend of the groom and I really don't think I should put up with this eye sore on the dance floor." The man's lips have peeled back into a sneer and Reid wants to run and hide from the look. He thought he was past this! Thought that he had found a modicum of self esteem that allowed him to shut this kind of BS out and stick up for himself. But, in the face of this drunken moron, he's reduced to a trembling mess of timid indignation. "But, I can overlook this, I think. How about you come with me and I can show you how to dance proper? We can put those hips of yours to good use." The sneer is now an obvious, full on leer and Reid cannot remember ever feeling so disgusted and sick to his stomach. He reels backward, shoulder bumping into Morgan as he tries so desperately to put space between him and this every-day Unsub. The feel of Morgan's hand grasping his shoulder is the only thing that anchors him, that keeps him from falling flat on his ass. 

"Yeah, there's a dozen different reasons why that's just not happening, man." In no way subtle, Morgan moves so that he's standing between the Unsub and Reid, protecting the doctor with his bulk and Reid is so damn grateful. Sure, they're in the middle of a party and it's unlikely this asshole is a psycho or anything, but he is still an annoying Unsub that seems hell bent on causing trouble. "Now get the hell out of here. Because you might be a -friend- of Will's, but my man Reid here is Henry's Godfather. Who do you think Will's gonna take up for, huh?" Finally, the asshole seems to get the gist of what is being said, because he backs down with a wary expression and a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. Skinny ass ain't even worth it." The Unsub turns and stumbles through the dancers, allowing Reid to finally breathe again. Morgan's hand remains on his shoulder but within the next second he is being pulled close. Until they are practically toe to toe as Morgan stares up at him.

"I'm sorry, Baby Boy." The sincerity in those words rocks him to the core and he can feel the dull prick of tears behind his eyes. "He was just some drunken asshole trying to Neg on you, Reid. His opinion really doesn't count. You were doing so well, Baby Boy. I mean it." And he does. It's so obvious that Morgan means every word he says, and that would have been fine and dandy if he hadn't repeated Baby Boy. Twice. Because somehow, in some way, those two little words feel like a game changer that Morgan isn't even aware he has utilized so many times tonight. That makes them appear more like an after thought than anything of substance or value and doesn't that pretty much sum up most of his personal life? He is most often a social after thought and he cannot handle the possibility that that is all he is to his best friend.

"Right." He doesn't care that it is true. Cannot latch onto the logic of the statements because he's too tired and his head is now aching so loud he is half surprised he does not see the pattern of it written across his vision. He turns on a dime, easily working his shoulder out from under Morgan's touch but not for long. Because almost immediately, the hand has returned to the small of his back to guide them toward the table they had vacated. 

"Have a seat, Spence. I'll grab some drinks." Morgan's reassuring smile would usually work wonders for the frayed edges of his mind and heart but not tonight. Tonight, they are fuel to the fire of his agony, sweeping him further and further beneath the waves of discontent until he is drowning with it. He watches Morgan walk toward the bar, his usual swagger somehow diminished and he spares himself only a moment to wonder if that is somehow on his behalf. But only a moment. 

He practically jumps from his seat and makes his way to the empty space surrounding the Bride and Groom now that all of the other well wishers have had their say. 

"You look beautiful, JJ." He manages to smile with some semblance of truth as he awkwardly hugs the woman who has become like a surrogate sister to him. She pats his back, runs her fingers through his hair and smiles.

"I'm glad you were here, Spence." She beams at him and wonder of wonders, he takes a calming breath and this time, when he smiles, it's genuine even if not full. He turns to Will, surprises the man when he initiates a hug and they beam at each other as well.

"You gotta promise me that you'll take good care of her, Will." The shorter man's eyes widen and the look he gives Reid couldn't be more earnest and serious.

"You have my word, Spencer. JJ and Henry are my entire world and there's nothin' I wouldn't do for them, brother." He believes him. He believes Will with all that he is, so he initiates a second hug and clings tightly to him.

"Good. They're both worth it. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night." Before either of them can question him, or worse yet, try to talk him into staying, he turns and hurries away.

He cannot handle this, not right now. The bastard had sapped any goodness from his experience and Morgan calling him Baby Boy may be one of the cruelest things the other profiler has ever done to him! He will -never- be someone that has earned such a title and he is offended and hurt that he continued to use it without realizing. He wants to -be- that to -someone- one day, and having it tossed in his face without it being true yet ..

So yes, he is running away. Quick stepping as far from the celebration as he can even as he grabs out his cell phone and calls a cab. Of course, having run, he misses the pained look of utter confusion on Morgan's face when he returns to the table and it's empty. Completely devoid of his best friend. It is a kick to the gut that he doesn't understand how he earned. He quickly sets the two glasses down, turning to look out, over those gathered.

No Spencer on the dance floor, at the bar, lounging with their teammates or standing with the Bride and Groom. He's just .. gone. Morgan deflates, topples into the chair he had occupied earlier and grabs up his drink to down a good third of it in one burning swallow. He knows he messed up. He pushed Reid into a situation he hadn't been prepared for and then that mouthy jackhole had come along and made it all worse. And, of course, he has a pretty good idea that his overly touchy nature tonight had not been appreciated, even if Reid had never said anything about it. The kid has a suffer in silence mentality at times, so of course he didn't say anything even if he was uncomfortable. 

He hesitates for a moment, knocks back the rest of his drink and then sinks further into the chair. He'll find some way to make this better, he knows he will.


	2. The Unsub

* * *

**_When it hurts to look back, and you're afraid to look ahead, you can look beside you and your best friend will be there._  
\- Unknown**

* * *

We're looking for a white man in his late 20's to early 30's. He will be working in a mid-level job but he tells people that he's in management. As far as he's concerned, everyone at work would be lost without him, though they actually view him as a hindrance.

He is obsessive compulsive, feeling the need to put everything in it's place. If something is moved, he loses focus and becomes unstable. Because of this need for rigorous structure, he has likely never been in a long term relationship. He lacks the confidence and concentration to keep a woman interested, but will always view her as the reason he has failed. 

This compulsive need has classified him as an organized killer, but he is quickly devolving. His patterns are beginning to change and he has crossed the line between gender and race .......

.... they were wrong. God, they were wrong about -everything-! It's not often that every single point of their profile has missed the mark. Reid would consider this the perfect learning opportunity, but the gun pressed against his temple has robbed him of the ability to consider the future. His mortality is staring him right in the face and he would love to say that this is the first time or the last, but both would be lies. 

"Drop it, kid!" Morgan's in command voice is authoritative ... but off. Reid's pretty sure he's the only one that has actually heard the faint crack of a sour note deep inside of it and he is happy for that fact. Because the Unsub cannot sense weakness right now, and because he would really just prefer Morgan not to have to worry if anyone has heard something he will perceive to be a weakness, though it really isn't. It's only human that emotion should be peeking at the edges of his command in such a situation. 

"God, you are such a condescending moron!" The Unsub is nothing like they expected. For starters, he's only 15. The OCD, the job, the lying, it's all a put-on to throw them off. And it worked. God, did it -work-! Seven different suspects arrested and they never even considered the true monster. Reid feels personally responsible for the storm of BS this has become. He missed it. Somehow, someway, his 'beautiful brain' sailed right past the truth and latched onto all the wrong things. And why wouldn't he when the Unsub profiled him and played him like a damn chess game!? "What are you even doing in the BAU, hmm? Let me guess, Affirmative Action hard at work, right? Every one else has a reason and a place, but not Agent Morgan. He's a jock gone bad with nowhere to turn, sailing right on through with the race card. Hotch, he knows the law. JJ, she's good with people. Hell, even that dishy little freak that runs your computers has a use. But not you." 

Morgan, the gorgeous professional that he is, never wavers. He keeps his gun trained on the Unsub, does nothing to rise to the bait of his challenged Alpha-ness. He is beautiful in his dedication and Reid has only ever been this proud of him once; when he faced his past and came out on top.

"Poor Spence. To be saddled with all of these idiots when you could change the world! I get it, I do. You stepped up to stop the monsters in the world, but you're doing it the wrong way, my love." The way the Unsub practically purrs the words my love turns his stomach. He can feel the sweat collecting at the small of his back. Knows that he is probably sickly looking right now. How could he not be when this little bastard is fixating on him!? "The best way to save them .. is to protect them from themselves. Just think of all the good we could do together! With absolute control, we could save them all, Spence. We would be their cherished Gods." 

Yeah, he's definitely going to be sick once this is over. If he makes it out alive. Every time the Unsub says his name, Morgan flinches minutely. Again, Reid's pretty sure he's the only one that can -see- it, and he has a moment to wonder what that says about the state of their friendship. 

"Subjugation leads to revolution, Tybal. History is filled with examples of it. The people cannot be forced to change, they must patiently be lead to the truth." He injects as much authority and confidence into his voice that he can muster and is silently surprised at the success. His lessons from Morgan have paid off, even if the Senior Agent didn't realize he was giving them. The use of the Unsub's name draws a mixed reaction. He can feel the teen stand a little straighter and yet, the barrel of the gun digs deeper into his temple and draws an unintentional whimper from Reid. "Deep down, you know that your plan is flawed, Tybal." This is a dicey move. The sudden, though thankfully quiet inhale of breath from Morgan lets him know that the other profiler thinks that this is a mistake. That he is baiting and pushing the young psychopath. He is. Hopefully, in the -right- direction. "Even if I were to join forces with you .. even if we -could- try and save them from themselves .. just -look- where this plan has gotten you." 

Morgan has begun to inch closer and Reid can feel his heart speeding up even more. For an illogical moment, he pictures it beating against his rib-cage until it is a cartoonists' rendering of a heart impression pressing against his skin, trying to break free in a rapid beat. He wants to caution him. Beg him not to play the hero because he is playing with his life but he trusts him. Infinitely. There can be no friendship without trust, a truth hard fought and won for the young agent. 

"I.. what do you mean? It's a good plan, Spence! Just .. just -think- about it!" The gun diggers a little deeper. There will be a half or full moon bruise on his delicate skin in just a few hours. A temporary reminder of what he will have hopefully survived by then. Is it odd that he hopes he lives not for himself, but for the rest of them? For his Mom, his team, for his best friend? 

"I have, Tybal, and there is one giant, glaring flaw to it." He takes a deep breath, holds it for a count of six before he exhales and carefully pushes back against the Unsub. Forces himself into an even more personal position in his private space. The Unsub stiffens and shivers and Reid resists the urge to lose his lunch there and then. "In order for you to even -argue- the merits of your plan .. you're holding a gun to the only brain that can match your own. You are literally threatening the life of the only peer you have. Don't you understand? If you lose me .. if you pull that trigger and lodge that bullet in my brain .. you will have lost everything. If you cannot rule them, what reason do you have to go on?" With the plan. He meant, for all that he is -worth-, to say go on with the plan. But the cold press of metal to flesh robs him of a few words. Just enough to ensure that what happens next .. well ... happens. 

"I .." the teen's voice cracks under the weight of self doubt and for a single second, Reid thinks he has managed to pull this off. Has somehow managed to get through to the teen so that this might end peacefully. But then he feels it. Like an electrical impulse shooting through some mystical part of himself that he knows doesn't exist. In a split second, with the accidental omission of a few words, he has completely lost control of the situation. "Of course you're right, my love. The only person I have ever met smarter than myself." The arm around Reid's throat tightens, the gun now feels clammy against his over sensitive temple. The gun wavers even as he feels the cool press of chapped lips against his other temple. His gag reflex trips. Convulsive swallowing the only thing that keeps him from hurling when he feels that unwanted kiss.

"Touch him again like that, kid, and I will end you." The words are not bravado on Morgan's part, but a vicious promise that somehow manages to relax Reid almost instantly. He is breathing normal, his throat has gentled and he no longer fears losing control of himself in any way. 

"This really doesn't involve you, you under developed thug!" The words are hissed against Reid's skin and a little bit of his own control begins to slip once more. "I can do whatever the hell I wish with the good doctor. He is -mine-! And a peon piece of trash like you will -not- change that." Reid swallows a whimper when the lips brush against his skin again. The hand holding the gun has firmed once more, metal biting into vulnerable flesh. Threatening with every breath they both take. "Tell him, Spence. Tell your little thug the -truth-!"

Spencer's guts are roiling. This can go bad in so many ways. So. Many. Ways. If the delusion breaks he will die. If the delusion is well fed, he will die. He is balancing on the precipice of a very large abyss and it feels as if a single breath could be his downfall. 

"D-Derek .." He flinches inwardly at the familiar use of Morgan's first name in a work-related situation, but when he manages to scan his eyes over to his friend, he sees that he doesn't look angry. If anything, there seems to be some sense of relief in his eyes, as if the use of his first name was somehow the right thing to do. But he honestly cannot see -how- it is. "Tybal is right. I'm at his ..." He wants to say mercy, but he has a feeling that it would set the teen off rather than comfort him. "... discretion. Please, just .. back up." It's a double edged sword. A forked-tongue. He's is asking Derek to back up, away from them, but also reminding him that back up is on the way. 

"Spencer ... there's no way I can do that, man. You gotta know there's no way I could leave you. That's not what friends do, Spencer." He winces inwardly, wishing he had better communicated his need to his friend, but there's no help for it now. 

"Don't call him Spencer!" The gun presses close again and a scared sob is forced from Reid's lips. This, somehow, seems to be the right thing to do, because the gun hand loosens a little bit. "I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you. It's going to be okay, Spence. We're going to do this, baby. Gonna rule them -all-." The speech patterns and intelligence level have begun to devolve and he understands what this means. He must force the hand in some way. So, he tries it again. He sobs a second time, trembling in the arms of the Unsub.

"T-Tybal ... baby .. you're holding a gun to my head. It -hurts- .. how can we do anything when you're hurting me?" His voice quivers and quakes, fear and pain colliding to create a tone of begging he has never used before. When the gun accidentally slips and presses into the forming bruises, Reid yelps in pain and Morgan jerks to the ready on instinct. Finger itching to pull the trigger and end what is hurting his friend. Tybal jerks in surprise as well, eyes wide.

"God, Spence, I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't mean ... what kind of genius am I that I hurt you? I .. I'm better than this. We're better than this. I can't .. shouldn't ..." Reid cannot remember seeing an Unsub fall apart so quickly and it is as scary as it is fascinating. Of course, he doesn't exactly have the time to study it right now, does he? More important things and all of that. 

A sudden, hysterical laugh makes Reid feel as if his heart is going to stop instantly. It's chilling, terrible. Insane.

"I've ruined everything before we could even start. You're right, Spence. You're smarter than me, better than me. I hurt you. I --" The next moments move as if in slow motion. 

The gun is jerked away from Spencer's temple just as the arm around his neck tightens to the point that his breath is cut off. He's slowly choking. Lightheadedness starts at the exact same moment the barrel of the gun slides up and under the teen's chin. Tybal yanks Reid's head hard left three seconds before his finger squeezes the trigger. A warm spray of blood splatters across Reid's shocked, terrified face as the bullet rips upward into the soft palate of the Unsub's mouth, through his brain and exits the back of his head at an odd angle. As one, the two topple backwards, falling to the hard ground. 

The moment the blood hit his face and the sound of the gun firing pinged his ears, Reid sort of just .. snapped. His mind shuts down and separates from his body, leaving him in a dissociative state. Almost as if he has simply gone dormant and absent. His eyes are open, unblinking, but he sees nor registers anything. 

"Reid!" Morgan snarls the name as he throws himself to his knees beside his fallen friend. With one hand, he shoves the Unsub's gun as far away as he can, even as he holsters his own weapon and then reaches for his best friend. He closes his hands desperately around Reid's shoulders and pries him from the bloodied arm of the Unsub. "Spencer!" This time, he nearly whimpers the name when he sees the amount of blood spray across his friend. Soaking his face, his hair, his clothes. God, with the stillness, it's almost as if ... as if .... !! "PRETTY BOY!" Morgan would not be too ashamed to admit that he screams the nickname when Reid still hasn't responded in any way, because he's so still he looks dead and that's not a possible reality his brain is capable of processing. (Not now or EVER!)

"Morgan!" Rossi's voice precedes the arrival of the irate profiler as he bursts into the room.

"Rossi! Call an ambulance! Reid is .. just call an ambulance, man." He does not mean to be so vague as to cause the older man to worry, but he hasn't the first clue what's wrong with his baby boy. Shock is a likely culprit, but what if something ruptured from having the gun go off so close, or if some kind of shrapnel had pierced that beautiful brain of his!? The possibilities are not endless, but there are still too many for him to concentrate on. So, instead, he is trying to focus on what he can see and feel.

Reid is breathing. His chest is rising in slow, steady breaths that suggests he is not panicked or in too much pain. If he were, there would be shallow, erratic breaths. His skin, while naturally pale, is not deathly so. He is not looking green around the edges or too badly flushed. He is just .. still and silent. Morgan will deal with those things if he must.

"They're on their way, Morgan. We should head outside and wait." When Rossi begins to approach them, Morgan has to fight down the instinctual desire to growl at the older man. Instead, he carefully lifts Reid up bride-style in his arms and carries him through toward the doors.

* * *

Reid regains awareness slowly and with a lot of confusion. The last thing he remembers is the showdown with Tybal Jones, the teenage Unsub that had killed 8 people. The very thought of the strange, brilliant youth that had fixated on him, that had somehow thought Reid was the type that would help him take over the world to save it, is painful. Devastating. -Not- something he wants to think about, so he doesn't. The memories are there, of Tybal holding him at gun point, of ultimately -killing- himself and in some twisted, sick way, killing himself -for- Reid, but the agent refuses to recall it right now.

He begins to move his head and whimpers softly in pain when the action pulls at the multiple bruises at his temple. His limbs feel leaden and it takes him a moment to realize that he is also enveloped somehow. He tilts his head just enough to realize that he can see the clothed edge of someone's arm draped protectively around him. It is heavy and comforting. There is also a wall of heat pressed against his side, and the steady beat of a heart beneath his cheek.

It doesn't take a genius to know that he's being held by Morgan. The arm is too heavy and large, the presence beneath him to solid, to be JJ. And seeing as Garcia isn't -on- the trip .. Morgan. Though, given his friend's odd behavior toward him these days, he doubts the other agent would've let anyone else take up this position, anyway. 

He is now torn. Propriety says that he should pull away and put distance between them, now that he's awake. But he -really- doesn't want to. Morgan is a warm, soothing balm in the aftermath of what he went through and if you cannot lean on your friends .. who -can- you lean on!? 

"... you're thinking too loudly, baby boy. I can hear that big ol' brain of yours goin'. Just lay down and relax, kid." Morgan's vice is soft and tired. Reid had not stopped to think that the other agent had been through something just as emotional as he himself suffered. We always suffer along side our friends, if they are true friends. The words balance and steady something inside of Reid, until Morgan ends on that single hated one; kid. Reid tenses, immediately pulls back, away from the comforting presence of is friend. He doesn't miss the look of confusion and hurt on Morgan's face when the man reluctantly pulls his arm away. "What? What did I say wrong, Spence?" 

"I'm not a -kid-, Morgan. -T..Tybal- .. he was a kid." The name is cloying and too thick with unshed tears, but he still manages to force it past his aching lips. After today, if he never has to hear or think that name again, he might actually get past this. First Tobias, now Tybal ... what the hell is it with males beginning with the letter 'T' ??

"Okay, Spence. Not a problem, man." The sincerity and honesty in Morgan's voice is his undoing. It snaps something inside of him and the first few tears begin to flow hot and sluggish down his cheeks. He quickly shoves his palms angrily against his cheeks, trying to wipe the salt water away, when he -remembers- that he had been covered in blood. Tybal's blood. He gasps, chokes on the next exhale as he begins to rub at his cheeks so badly it -hurts- but it's still not hard enough to remove the memory. "Spencer .... Spence ... come on, pretty boy, stop!" Morgan's hands are suddenly there, prying his palms free of his cheeks and holding steady to his shaking hands. "There's nothing there, I promise. First thing I did when they let me have a minute with you .. was clean you up. There ain't nothin' there, baby boy." A tug on his hands, and he is sprawled across Morgan's chest again. He has never been so grateful to have this man as his friend, before. He carefully lays his cheek against the beating of Morgan's heart again, eyes drooping closed.

"Thank you, Derek." He murmurs tiredly, nuzzling that much closer to his friend as he struggles to even his breathing. He's not the least bit surprised to feel both of those powerful arms wrapping around him. He instantly feels safe. Maybe not fully at ease, but -safe- none the less. Because he knows that Morgan will always have his back. 

"Nothing to thank me for, Spence. You're my teammate and my friend. I'll always be here when you need me." The reassurance settles like a warm weight in his gut and he can already feel himself relaxing back into sleep. "Rest up, Spence. I'll wake you when we get there."


	3. Momma Says

* * *

**_The woman who creates and sustains a home, and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a creator second only to God._   
\- Helen Hunt Jackson**

****

* * *

It has been two weeks, to the day, since Spencer was held at gunpoint and he is really not over it. No matter how many times he smiles, swears he's fine, or tries to spout off facts, he is not okay. For the most part, the team seem to take his condition at face value. All save one. Wouldn't take a profiler or a genius to reach the logical, correct conclusion; Morgan. Every where Reid goes at the BAU, he can feel the heavy weight of Morgan's concerned gaze following him. Tracking his every movement. It is both flattering and unbelievably oppressive because it is wonderful to know he cares, but it also puts pressure on him to be okay and he just isn't.

Having felt Morgan stare at him for nearly twenty minutes while they're supposed to be working on paperwork, he has decided that he needs a break. He jerks uncomfortably to his feet, rubs a hand through his hair and turns to head toward the break room. He snags a cup and pours some of the office coffee into it, nose wrinkling. He doesn't actually -want- the coffee, but he knows that he will drink it anyway. It's more ritual than anything at this point. Something to keep his hands full and his mind occupied. 

He grabs the sugar, stares at the container for a moment and then puts it back down. It's unprecedented, the lack of sugar going into his coffee, but something about his mood has put him off it.

"If I hear you say you're fine one more time, Imma box your ears, Reid. Because the pretty boy I know, puts half a sugar container in one cup of coffee. What's up?" The sound of Morgan's voice makes him jerk and jump in surprise, nearly spilling the piping hot coffee across himself. He manages to set the cup down, frowning vaguely. He doesn't really know what to say. His first instinct is to tell Morgan that he's fine, same as he's been telling everyone else on the team. But this is Morgan and his keen eye and understanding of Reid. So, lying would do nothing but hurt the man and he can't do that.

"Isn't it possible I'm just not in the mood for something sweet right now, Morgan?" 

"Sure, but that's not all of it and we both know that. Talk to me, pretty boy. I'm starting to get worried." Morgan steps fully into the room, grabbing Reid's coffee cup and the sugar container.

"Starting to? I think you missed starting to several weeks back." He huffs the words, rubbing both hands down his cheeks before he turns and falls gracelessly into a chair. "I really am fine, in the long run. I'm tired, a little worn out, but ultimately fine. It's just a bit of a hard moment for me, but it'll pass." He can hear Morgan walking over, watches as he places the coffee cup in front of him and then sits across from him. After a moment of hesitation, he picks the cup up and sniffs at it. Blinks in surprise when he gets a hint of something other than sugar. "What is this?" He doesn't mean to sound suspicious or anything, and to cut the harshness of the words, he takes a tentative sip even before Morgan answers.

"It's coffee, Reid. Sweetened with natural vanilla and honey crystals, instead of refined sugar." It's such a simple, seemingly unimportant thing. Sweetened coffee without the usual, unhealthy sugar content Reid uses. It's a quiet but wonderful way for Morgan to take care of him, without really seeming to do so. 

"Thanks, Morgan." He flashes a tired smile before he takes another drink, surprised at how much he really likes it. 

"No problem. so, you're just tired and worn out, huh?" When he glances up, he can almost see the wheels turning in his friend's head. He thinks about making the type of joke Morgan usually makes when Reid is thinking too hard, but he finds himself distracted by another long drink of his coffee and the moment slips by. "How much vacation time you got?" The question is totally out of left field and he nearly spills his coffee again before managing to set the cup down.

"What does that have to do with anything? And two weeks four days." He cants his head to the left, bangs swishing down over one eye as he observes his friend. Derek looks pensive for a few moments before that eye crinkling, gorgeous smile suddenly blossoms and Reid forgets how to breathe.

"Ok, good. Perfect, in fact. Go up to Hotch, tell him you want to take two weeks vacation." The words are an order, even if Morgan doesn't realize that's what they sound like, and Reid is immediately on edge. Why in the world would he do that? Why would he follow orders and take a two week vacation? Doesn't Morgan realize that he would lose his mind if he had to do something like that??

"Uh ..." His brain momentarily stutters, slams to a complete stand still and knocks him for one hell of a loop.

"It's perfect timing, pretty boy. Momma's been asking after you and if you're rundown, you're in need of a vacation. Two weeks, starting tomorrow. Go." Before he's even consciously aware of it, he's standing up, coffee cup in hand, headed toward the break room door and ultimately, Hotch's office. 

It's only when he's raising his hand to knock that he realizes what he's doing. He hesitates and yet, never considers not going through with it. He knocks lightly, immediately entering when he's told to come in.

"Hotch." He shuffles to the seat at the desk, hesitates, and then settles himself uncomfortably in it.

"What can I do for you, Reid?" Hotch leans back in his seat, silently watching the younger agent as he fidgets with his coffee cup.

"I, uh .. I want to put in for vacation." He carefully changes his coffee cup to his other hand. "Two weeks, starting tomorrow." Hotch had begun to reach for a form, his hand stopping and hovering when Reid mentions -when- he wants the vacation. He barely manages to hide a smile because not surprising, it's the same time Derek is going to be on vacation and it actually makes the older agent happy to know that they will be spending that time together. He knows that poor Reid needs some time to get over what happened, and none of them are better equipped to help with that than Morgan.

"Okay." Hotch grabs a file folder and quickly jots some things down, looking it over for a moment, before he looks back up at his friend and teammate. "You're down for vacation, Spencer." He tucks the form back in, smiling openly this time. "I hope you enjoy your time. You deserve a little relaxation." 

"T-thanks, Hotch." Reid quickly leaps to his feet and exits the office, stumbling down to his desk and settling in his seat. He has just taken the last drink of coffee and binned the cup when he sees Morgan lean around his desk, eyebrows raised quizzically. He gives a weak nod and almost blushes when Morgan practically lights up with happiness and settles back behind his desk.

* * *

Two weeks in Chicago, on a vacation he hadn't actually wanted to take. Honestly, the prospect should be downright terrifying. He should feel overrun, caged in, coerced, but he doesn't. No, he feels as if he is breathing right for the first time since Tybal. 

He's currently hugging his messenger bag to his chest, surrounded by a small sea of luggage as he waits for his friend. It doesn't take long before Morgan is pulling up in a black SUV rental. Reid lets the bag go and starts to reach for the closest luggage.

"Uh-uh. Don't even think about it, baby boy. Get in, I'll get our stuff." Morgan levels a mock glare in his direction, and Reid rolls his eyes before he heads for the passenger door. So far, any attempt to 'argue' with his friend and try to help out has been met with playful scowls and rebukes, so he's given up. Nothing is worth fighting about right now. He's on vacation, he should be relaxing, so that's what he's trying to do.

He settles into the seat, leaning his head back, eyes closed for now. Despite the uncomfortable plane ride and the anxiety of seeing Morgan's family again, he's rather comfortable and relaxed. He's actually looking forward to these weeks away from work. Morgan is a big part of that, though he's trying to ignore it for now.

"Don't tell me you're getting ready for a nap, pretty boy." Morgan drawls out as he slides into the driver's seat. "You could've slept that entire plane ride." He knows that Morgan is teasing, of course, so he reaches out without opening his eyes and rubs his hand across Morgan's face in a dismissive gesture.

"It wasn't the jet. There's no way I was going to sleep. So, where are we staying?" He finally manages to pry his eyes open, casting a side-eye glance at his friend. The happy, warm smile Morgan has been wearing all morning has already made this vacation well worth it. He's surprised to feel Morgan reach out to clap him lightly on the knee before they pull away from the curb.

"Well, the jet is surprisingly comfortable, I'll give you that." They both share a laugh as Reid lets his eyes close again. "And we'll be staying with Momma. No matter what we said, she'd insist, and even you know she don't take no for an answer." Reid's eyes flash open and continue to widen in surprise from there. They'll be staying -with- Mrs. Morgan!? Okay, he NEVER signed up for that!!

"What?! Morgan! You never said -anything- about that!" He feels the first wave of fear and panic welling up inside of him. He knew that Morgan's whole reason for this trip was to visit his Mom and spend some time with her. And yes, he knew that he had come along because he was expected to interact with her at some point. NOT STAY IN HER HOME!! He had every intention of seeing her twice and spending all the other time up to his own devices. But if he's staying there, he will have no choice but to see her. Every day. It will be awkward and hard because he's just not that good with people and he'll inevitably ramble and say things to make her think less of him and oh God, he feels like he's going to have a panic attack!

"Uh-uh, Spence. None of this Morgan stuff. While we're outside of the office, call me Derek." Morgan's hand slips out to grip his shoulder in a gentle squeeze before returning to the wheel. "And I'll call you .. well, everything but Reid, really." The sound of his laugh would usually bring a nervous laugh from Reid, but he's still stuck on that little nugget of truth he had been denied until it was too late. "And no, I never said anything about stayin' at Momma's, because you never would've come if I did. The whole point was to get you away from home and let you relax. It'll do you some good, pretty boy. Now calm down. I promise she don't bite." Morgan grins at him and Reid finds himself turning away. Allowing his head to slip to the side so that he's staring out of the tinted windows. 

This is in no way what he was expecting.

* * *

Momma Morgan's house is exactly as he remembers it, of course. Eidetic memory and all. Though, it's not a house, it's a home. Even from the outside, one can feel the love, devotion, and family the place bleeds and Reid both hates and loves it. This was the type of thing he never had. He had a house, with a runaway dad and a sick mom. He sniffles discreatly, rubs a hand down his face, and turns to face Morgan. Who is, of course, staring at him as he always seems to be lately. He struggles not to wither or fall under that intense stare, instead, tries to steel his spine and face his friend head on.

"What's wrong, Spence?" Morgan's brows have furrowed in concern, his lips compressed into a thin line of emotion. The amount of emotion he seems to hold for Reid leaves him feeling winded and warm all over. He begins to fidget in his seat, forcing himself to look away from the handsome, concerned man.

"Not wrong, per se. Just .. I should've brought your Mom something, flowers or something, for being so nice and letting us visit." He's never been good at this, at reading certain situations right and doing what he's supposed to do. It's awkward and hard, but he really wants to get it right, this time. After all, this is Morgan's -Mom- and for some reason that makes little sense to him, he -really- wants her to like him. They had met so briefly that there had been little time to get to know each other that well, and if she doesn't approve, if he somehow offends, upsets or just annoys her ...... would Morgan decide they couldn't be friends anymore? The thought makes him feel nauseous. 

"Uhm .. I have a bit of a confession to make, baby boy." There's a hint of guilt in the words, but it may as well be a tsunami of it with how deeply it scores Reid. This .. this cannot be good, can it? "Momma doesn't actually -know- that we're visiting. She's been asking for me to visit, and keeps saying I should talk you into coming out, so I figured .. well ..... we could surprise her." 

Okay .... okay, he can deal with this. He's expected to -surprise- Derek's -Mom- by his presence, hope that she's not caught off guard and upset at their sudden appearance, and hope that everything will be okay. Yeah, this sounds like sooooo much relaxation in his future. 

"O-Okay. Well, I guess this will be one hell of a surprise." Reid winces at how snide the words sound, but he can't really be held responsible right now. Because at least he hasn't demanded Derek turn around and take him to a hotel and lose track of him for the next two weeks. He's tempted to do just that, though. He yanks the door open, huffing and grumbling to himself as he grabs his messenger bag and slings it angrily over his shoulder. The moment after he has shut the door and turned, however, he finds himself awkwardly lodged in Morgan's arms. The hold is almost desperate. 

"I'm sorry, pretty boy, I didn't mean to .. to trick you or anything, I just wanted to help you relax. Forgive me?" He really wants to be able to do something. Cry, or smack his best friend in the arm, maybe. Shout at him for putting him in this kind of situation, or maybe just kiss him for being so damn thoughtful and caring that he's doing whatever it takes to try and make him feel better.

Of course, he does none of these. Instead, he allows his eyes to close for a moment, drinks in the scent of Morgan pressed so close and sighs softly. 

"You're forgiven, Morgan. Now let me go." He smiles despite himself when he is squeezed and then almost reluctantly released. He reaches up to push his bangs out of his face and then turns to follow Morgan toward the door. He's a little surprised when he's positioned in such a way that he's not visible from the door, but at a 'trust me' look from Morgan, he just nods and goes with it.

"One moment!" Momma Morgan calls out a few seconds before she opens the door and gasps in happy shock to see her son standing there. "Derek! What a wonderful surprise!" She sweeps her son into a hug, grinning from ear to ear. "What ar eyou doing here, baby?" Morgan pulls back from the hug, grinning brightly as well. His family always brings out the best in him.

"Well, you've been gettin' after me to visit, so here I am." He shifts his weight from foot to foot for a minute, before he grins even bigger. "I also come baring a gift!" He takes a step back, creating a perfect spot for Reid to step into, between Morgan and Fran. She gasps again, reaching out to put her hands on Reid's shoulders.

"Dr. Reid!" He finds himself pulled into a tight hug, smiles shyly as he awkwardly returns it. "I'm so glad to see you. Come in, come in!" Before he can say anything, he finds his hand captured and he's tugged into the room, through to the kitchen. He's manhandled gently into a chair, Morgan quickly settling next to him with Fran across from them. "I like my present, Derek! How long are you staying?"

"Uhm, two weeks, Mrs. Fran." Reid smiles sweetly at her, watches in confusion as she grins and waves a hand at him.

"None of this Mrs. stuff, son. You can call me Fran or Momma." At the word Momma, Morgan's foot lightly kicks at his calf and he glares at his friend before smiling at Fran.

"Alright, Momma." Morgan practically -glows- next to him, Fran lighting up with pleasure as well. "I hope you're not put out with us surprising you out of the blue like this, but I really did need some time away." His voice cracks and breaks a few times, the true strain of what he's experiencing showing through. 

Fran's hands flash out, gathering Reid's into hers with a gentleness that he has not often experienced. His Mother's hold was always frantic, given everything that she was going through, and not often comforting. Fran is everything a mother is supposed to be and he feels as if he is betraying Diana Reid with those thoughts.

"Oh honey, I'm not put out at all. I'm glad you chose to come." Fran squeezes his hands, trying to be comforting and encouraging all at the same time. "If you need a place to relax and unwind, you are -always- welcome here, Dr. Reid." He feels himself blushing, can practically feel Morgan smirking next to him as he squeezes her hands in return.

"Thank you, Momma. And please, Spencer or Spence, no reason for Dr. Reid." After all, if he is to drop all formality, she should as well, yes? Besides .. even if he cannot say it, he rather enjoys her calling him son and stuff. Further betrayal to his own Mother, but he cannot help how he feels. 

"Alright, Spence." She smiles, amused at him, before she lets his hands go and stands. "Morgan, baby, why don't you go and get your things settled? I'll fix us something to drink while you do." Morgan reaches out to lay a hand on Reid's arm before he stands, shoving his chair under the table.

"Will do, Momma. Be back in a few." Reid watches his friend exit the room with a mild sense of panic. He had not anticipated being left alone with Morgan's Mom at any point during this trip! It only takes a second for him to realize that such a hope was pure, naive folly on his part. Of course he and Morgan couldn't spend every moment together in Fran's company. 

"This'll only take a couple of minutes, son." Fran speaks as she begins to gather things, leaving Reid to fall pray to his thoughts. And, subsequently, his memories. His hand snakes up, fingers probing at the unmarred skin of his temple, remembering how tender and raw the bruises there had felt. For days he had twinged and pulled there every time his face moved and left him remembering the feelings of terror when the gun was pushed there. 

On reflex, he reaches up, rubs his palms desperately down his cheeks, trying to remove congealed blood that is no longer there. For days after the .. event .... he rubbed himself raw trying to get rid of it despite it already being gone. Morgan had watched him so closely, making sure to quietly step in when he started.

"What's wrong, Spence?" Fran's voice cuts into his memories and he rubs a little harder until he feels his hands snagged gently about the wrists and pulled down.

"I ... it's .. a long story." He watches as she settles, slips her hands to hold his and looks him directly in the eye.

"I got time, baby boy. Tell me all about it." He shudders, eyes snapping closed. This is something he couldn't tell his -own- Mother, and yet, he's compelled to tell Momma Morgan. He -wants- to. He would never burden his sick Mom with what he's experienced, but here is a mother perfectly content to listen. He swallows heavily, eyes opening to peer at their clasped hands.

"It .. it's not a good story, Momma. In fact, it's the reason Mo -- Derek made me take a vacation." When her earnest concern is unwavering, he takes a deep breath, holds it, and then exhales carefully. "Two weeks ago, we were called in about several murders. We delivered a profile .. and it was all wrong. We thought we were looking for a guy in his late 20's, early 30's with OCD. It was much, much worse than that. He, uhm .." Spence's throat clicks as he dry swallows, struggling to continue. ".. he was 15. Just a -kid- and he was killing people because he thought he was -helping- them." Fran's hands tighten for a fraction of a moment before pulling away completely. One flies to her mouth, pressing against it in abject horror as she listens. "He, uh, he also fixated on me. He began to believe that we could be together and that we would take over the world to save it. He managed to get a hold of me, pressed his gun to my temple and held my around the throat. I did everything I could, Momma, to try and make him let me go." The tears have started now, flowing freely down his cheeks. Before he can take another breath, he's been pulled into her arms. Pressed into the safety she offers as she strokes his hair and holds him. "He ... he held on to me until I couldn't breathe and then he push....pushed .. the g..gun to his chin and he .... he killed himself. His blood was all over me .. I couldn't .. couldn't ..." He's outright sobbing, now. Trembling in her paternal embrace as she begins to rock him gently back and forth.

"Shh, it's okay, baby boy. You're okay." She continues to murmur softly as she holds him, letting him cry himself out. "I'm so sorry, son, no one should have to go through that. It's going to be okay. We're here for you, Spence." He burrows a little closer, half clinging to her as he tries to work through his pain. It takes several minutes of crying softly for him to realize that there's another presence there. Morgan is standing beside them, a hand on each of their shoulders, offering his silent support. 

"Come on, baby." Momma Morgan murmurs, once he has finished crying. He feels himself being coaxed to his feet, feels himself being transferred from one strong pair of arms to another. "Derek, why don't you go get him settled in for a nap, okay? He's worn himself out." 

"Of course, Momma." Gently, he guides Reid away from the table. "Come on, baby boy, lets get you settled." Reid barely registers them going up the stairs and into a bedroom. Is only vaguely aware of being settled on the foot of a large bed. He blinks several times, makes himself return to the moment to watch Morgan walk over to their bags. He frowns in surprise when Morgan doesn't go for his, but instead, rummages through his own. He pulls out two articles of clothing before turning back and settling in a crouch in front of Reid.

He watches silently as Morgan removes his shoes and then his socks, laughing faintly at the mismatched nature of them, causing him to blush a little bit. He then stands, placing a hand on the clothing settled beside Reid. 

"Go ahead and get changed, I'll be back in a minute." Reid nods almost absently, already pulling his shirt up and off as Morgan heads out of the room. 

He pulls the shirt up and without consciously making the decision, he buries his nose into the material, getting a good waft of the Morgan Scent he has become so attached to. He takes comfort in it's presence before he stands and quickly changes. The pants are loose on his hips, hanging a little low though he doesn't mind. The shirt is loose around the collar, causing it to fall down around his left shoulder. Despite the size of it, it's comfortable. 

He's just turned his head to rub his nose across the material when he hears the door to the bedroom open. Morgan walks back in and moves to settle a cold bottle of water onto the bedside table.

"Here you go, pretty boy. In case you get thirsty. Come on." Morgan pulls the covers back, ushering Reid to lay down. Once he's comfortable, Morgan goes so far as to tuck the covers around him, smiling warmly. "Get as much sleep as you need, Spence. I'll be back in to check on you in a little while." Reid reaches out, grabs Morgan's hand at the wrist.

"Are we sharing?" The question isn't really needed, because both sets of bags are in one room.

"Yeah, the other rooms are filled with junk. I'll clean one out tomorrow and take it." Reid squeezes Morgan's wrist and then lets go, yawning deeply.

"Don't bother. We've shared before. If I can wear your clothes, I can share your bed." The words are simple and easy, true. He turns onto his side, hitches the covers a little higher, and is asleep within moments.

Morgan stands at the side of the bed, watching his best friend, smiling because he's so happy that Reid -finally- opened up to someone. And sure, it hurts a little that it wasn't him, but he's damn glad that the genius finally managed to talk about it. He turns after a few more moments and heads downstairs to talk to his Mom.

* * *

Spence jerks away with a groan, his entire body aching from sleeping in one position too long. Tired hands fumble in the semi-dark for the water bottle, uncapping it and drinking almost half at a go. It takes him a moment to realize that the room isn't completely dark and he has to smile at that. A quick glance shows that Morgan has opened a curtain to allow some light in and that is yet something else that warms him through and through. Morgan knows that Reid doesn't really like the dark, so of course he would make sure to shed a little light into the room.

Once the water is capped and returned to the bedside table, he begins to take stock of everything. Specifically the warm arm slung haphazardly around his waist. The few times they have shared rooms before, he's never ended up with Morgan's arm around him. But then, he's never been quite this fragile and untethered before, either. After Tobias, every one thought he was holding together just fine, but this time, Morgan has been witness to his frayed edges and it would appear he's attempting to hold Reid together at the seams. He really couldn't ask for a better friend.

The gentle, moist fan of breath across the nape of his neck makes him shiver minutely. He feels hot and cold all over, wants to curl closer to his friend but also wants to eject himself from the bed. He chooses to remain still for now, letting his eyes wander to the digital clock beside the bed. 

2:43 am. A fine time for his mind to be trying to wake up when all he really wants to do is sleep some more. He pushes a hand against his face, scrubs down it with a soft sigh that is barely audible.

"Need something?" Morgan's sleep slurred voice draws Reid out of his thoughts. Makes him smile faintly as he drops his hand away. "You're thinking too much for so early in the morning, pretty boy. You should still be sleepin'." The arm around him tightens, draws him in closer and Reid can't help his blinding grin. Even if Morgan can't see it.

"Yeah, I know." After a moment, he begins to shift. Doesn't want to, but he needs to. He carefully turns, making sure not to dislodge Morgan's arm. Once he's facing his friend, he smiles again. Morgan's eyes are closed, his features still slack with the hint of innocence that sleep brings. He's beautiful. Handsome. So many descriptors that Reid doesn't have the courage to speak but are true none the less. "G'night, Morgan." He mumbles the words before falling right back to sleep, warm and content in his friend's embrace.

* * *

Reid's eyes snap open, a whimper falling from chapped lips. His eyes search the room he's in frantically, frowning when he doesn't immediately recognize the place. 

Oh. Right. He's in Momma Morgan's home. He's too tired to smile, but he would if he could. Instead, he forces himself to glance to the side and nearly jumps in surprise when he reads the clock. 2:43 pm. Exactly 12 hours since he last awoke. Which means he got nearly .. oh wow. Nearly 22 or so hours of sleep! He sucks in a breath, hissing at the ache in his body as he carefully sits up. He cannot remember a time he ever slept that much and wonders why he doesn't feel well rested. Why he aches and feels rather drained.

After a few moments to collect himself, he manages to stand and grabs up the bottled water. He drains the last of it as he heads downstairs and into the kitchen. 

Derek and Fran are, of course, in there. She's sitting at the table, a tea cup in hand as she inhales the aromatic steam. Derek is standing at the stove working over a skillet. Reid can't help himself. He leans against the doorway, arms wrapped gently around himself. 

Fran continues to sip at her tea, smiling fondly as she watches her son work.

"That smells delicious, Derek. It's been a long time since I've seen you cook." There's a note of teasing in her voice and again, he feels that momentary pang. This is what family is supposed to be, isn't it? What it feels like to have a lucid, loving mom?

"Don't usually have any reason to, Momma." Morgan doesn't turn around, just continues whatever he's working on. The food smells good enough that Reid can feel his mouth watering a little, his stomach giving an uncomfortable gurgle of hunger. "I just hope he likes it." 

"I'm sure he's gonna love it, baby. Is it almost done? I can go wake him." Reid flushes deeply at the thought that Morgan has apparently cooked something just for him. He clears his throat, watching Morgan jump and spin around and Fran gasp in surprise. "Spencer! Was just gettin' ready to come check on you, son. You've been asleep for 20-some-odd hours, now. How are you feeling?" Reid smiles sheepishly at her, feeling bad that he had been down that long.

"I'm feeling better. I, uh, I also want to thank you .. for yesterday. I'm sorry for, uhm, crying all over you. I just --"

"Think nothing of it, Spencer. I'm glad that you managed to get that all out, son. And don't go apologizing for sleeping, either, because apparently, you needed it. And no wonder! Derek told me just how hard you've been working yourself. It's a good thing you decided on this vacation." He glances at Morgan, expecting to see something sheepish, playful, or point of fact in his expression, but instead, he's met with a slightly glazed, wide-eyed stare. 

He finds himself curious of what Morgan is seeing when he looks at him. He knows that he looks sleep mussed. He can feel the haphazard feathering of his hair, can feel the slight breeze across his right shoulder where the borrowed shirt has fallen down and can even feel the saggy nature of the sleep pants he's wearing. He imagines he looks a rumpled fool, but from the look on Morgan's face, maybe not.

"Thank you, Momma." He smiles at Fran before turning his attention back to Morgan as he pushes himself out of the doorway and toward the table. "It smells really good, Der." The shortened form of his name seems to finally snap Derek out of his stare. He turns back to grab a pot holder and rushes toward the table, setting the skillet down.

"Did you sleep okay, Spence?" Reid settles in the chair with one foot propped up, so that he can hug a single knee to his chest as he watches his friend.

"Yeah, I slept really well. Only woke up the once." He leans his head forward, resting his chin gently on top of his knee as he watches the other two. "That's the best I've slept in a lot of years, and definitely the longest. Thanks." He hopes that his friend understands that he is thanking him for his grounding presence, something he doesn't want to come right out and mention in front of Mrs. Morgan. 

"Glad it did you some good, man. So, what do you want to do this afternoon, pretty boy?" Morgan settles next to Reid, once again leaving Fran across from them. It's not happened enough to be considered a pattern, but he's pretty sure that's exactly what it is. A pattern.

"Actually, uh, there's not much of anything I want to do today, Der. Think I mostly just want to continue resting up, be a little lazy. And then tomorrow, we can do something. Or, well, you're free to go do whatever you want this afternoon, of course. I'm not expecting you to sit here with me all afternoon or anything, because I'm sure there's a dozen different things you'd rather do than spend all this time with me and I should be quiet now." His rambling comes to an abrupt end with him slamming his hand against his mouth to physically shut himself up. 

He knows he's not the only one that wishes he had an off switch, though it's been a while since any of the others have made such a joke. 

Fran bursts into a soft fit of laughter as she pours out drinks, shaking her head.

"Is it bad that I've missed your ramblings, Spencer?" He can feel himself blushing deeply, head tilting so that he can bury his face against his knee. Hoping to save himself further embarrassment. 

"Give it time, Momma. You'll soon be cured of that." Reid reaches out blindly and smacks Morgan in the shoulder for the remark, causing the older man to laugh. However, before he can pull his hand back, he finds it captured. He immediately lifts his head so that he's staring into Morgan's eyes.

"And there is nowhere I'd rather be, baby boy, then spending time with you. That's the whole point of this vacation, man. Get the two of us out of town, away from the BAU, to hang out and relax." His hand is squeezed before it's released and he cannot draw it back to himself fast enough. All of these little touches from his best friend are starting to confuse him. His body is experiencing sensory overload and he's really not that prepared for it. "So, how about we finish eating and then we can sack out on the couch and watch some mind numbing TV .. sound good?"

Baby boy ... there has been a surprising increase of that nickname since Morgan first used it at the Wedding and he's pretty sure, even now, that the other man doesn't realize he sometimes uses it in place of pretty boy. He wants to draw attention to it, point out to Morgan that he's using the more intimate words, but then it might go away and he really doesn't want that. Some part of him likes the fact that he has been placed in the same flirtatious category as Garcia, but another part of him hurts so very badly because of it. If he thought that Morgan was aware of what he was saying, that the labeling was -intentional-, then he'd be perfectly fine with it. The fact that it seems to be some kind of .. slip? Well, that just makes it all so much more painful. 

"Yeah, sure, sounds good." He cannot bring himself to smile. Instead, he just curls into himself a little more and begins to eat.

* * *

Reid and Morgan are currently on the couch in the living room. Morgan is settled at the far end, back curled at the angle created by the arm of the couch. Reid is actually curled up on his side, knees scrunched toward his chest so that he doesn't penetrate Morgan's personal bubble. Which, for some reason he cannot fathom, seems to be annoying the other man. Several times he has snuck a glance toward the other man, only to see him scowling and fidgeting. A few times, it has looked as if Morgan was beginning to reach toward him, only to fidget away again. What's up with that?

As the 3 Stooges play on the television, the only thing they were able to agree on, he finds himself studying his friend more than paying attention to the show. Sure, he could easily do both, but he finds he doesn't want to. No, he would much rather place his full attention of Derek Morgan.

So, he doesn't miss the way that Derek's hands flex every few minutes. The way his fingers wiggle in search of something or the way his lips keep compressing into a little bit of a frown until something on the show makes him smile. To the casual observer, it would look like Morgan is just a little wound up, but Reid can read him better than that. There is obviously something really bothering him, and after a moment, he decides to test a theory. 

After another three minutes of seeming to pay attention to the show, Reid shifts. Moves just enough that his knees push down and he unfurls a bit. The action causes his foot to graze Morgan's thigh. The reaction is almost instantaneous. It's as if the contact has given Morgan permission or something because he immediately relaxes, stops fidgeting, and gently draws Reid's feet up, unto his lap. Until Reid is stretched perfectly and Morgan's hand can wrap around one of his ankles.

Reid is utterly surprised to find how comforted he immediately feels. The simple weight and presence of Morgan's hand on his clothed ankle is a kind of safety and pleasure he had not expected to encounter. He manages to side-eye his best friend and is rather blown away by the fact that Morgan now looks comfortable, contented, and at ease. No more fidgeting, frowning, or anything else. He seems at peace. Why would having that single touch bring him peace!?

"Do you boys need anything?" The sudden sound of Fran's voice causes Reid to flail slightly in surprise, which leads Morgan to laugh at him, of course. The older man tilts his head to look over the back of the couch.

"No Momma, we're okay." His hand clasps tighter on Reid's ankle, questioning brows quirked in his direction. When he shakes his head no, Morgan smiles over his shoulder again. "But thanks anyway." Fran walks over to the couch and bends to press a kiss to Morgan's forehead, before she walks over and gently ruffles his hair. 

"Alright, then. You boys have a good evening. I'll see you tomorrow." She turns then and heads upstairs, leaving Reid and Morgan curled up. 

"She's really sweet." The words are blurted without any preamble. He hadn't expected to say anything like that, even if he had been thinking it. "She's what a Mom should be. Or, at least, what I always heard a Mom should be." He bites at his bottom lip, wincing faintly at the sharp pin prick of pain it creates. "Not to say that my Mom wasn't or anything but it was always a little difficult with her. I mean .. I should be quiet again." He snaps his jaws shut so quick that his teeth click and hurt. His hands have begun to weave about one another. Fingers playing against his own palms, plucking and twisting against one another, writhing as he struggles to handle the onslaught of his emotions.

"Calm down, Spence. Take a deep breath." The hand on his ankle suddenly slides up, patting at his leg and knee as he forces himself to regulate his breathing and relax. Given the fact that the whole point of this trip is relaxation, he's been hella tense so far. "Don't worry, man, you're not betraying your Mom or anything by liking Momma. Just means you got plenty of heart to give, baby boy." 

Reid's breath leaves in a whoosh that leaves him lightheaded and confused. It takes far too long for his brain to process what is going on. Morgan touching him so intimately, even if it is rather chaste, mixed with yet another incident of baby boy, and he just doesn't feel right. He wants to run away. Wants to yank himself away from Morgan and just leave the room. 

So that's precisely what he does. He carefully extracts his leg from Morgan's touch and pushes himself to a standing position.

"Thank you for watching tv with me, Morgan. It was fun." He then turns and hurries from the living room, headed toward the kitchen. It is only once he's inside that he realizes he had said Morgan instead of Derek. The one thing Morgan had asked him not to do while outside the office and he has already messed it up.

He flings himself at a cupboard, grabbing hold of a warm bottle of water to carry with him. When he turns around, he yelps in surprise and drops the water. Winces when it lands on his foot and rolls away a few feet. Morgan is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. A look of pained confusion and concern on his gorgeous features.

"What's goin' on, Spence? I've never seen you this jumpy, man. Talk to me." 

"There's nothing to talk about, Morgan." He answers too quick, slips up a second time and he can -see- the pain it causes the older man. He watches as Morgan shuts down. As everything good and light in him vanishes behind a cool, calculating wall and he knows that it's his fault but he's not ready to take the blame. Because he's allowed to keep something to himself, damn it! Morgan himself had stated that fact years ago. 

"Alright, kid. My bad." Morgan turns then, back ramrod straight, shoulders tight. "Good night, Reid." A double whammy and he knows he deserves the painful sting of those words but it cuts deeper than he imagined words could. Or maybe just deeper than he imagined Morgan capable of? Either way, it leaves him wounded and bloodied. 

"N-night .. Der ..." He barely manages to make the words audible, but it doesn't really matter. Morgan has long since left the room. He slinks out of the kitchen ten minutes later and doesn't even -think- about heading upstairs to the bedroom. Because Morgan is in there, and there's simply no way he's prepared to face his friend after letting him down so badly. So, he settles on the couch, knees scrunched toward his chest, hands pressed beneath his cheeks like a pillow. 

It takes him almost two hours to finally fall asleep.

* * *

Spence awakes mid morning. A glance at the closest clock reveals it to be about 10 or so. His neck hurts from the position he laid and his back is a little creaky as well. But he doesn't complain. He simply pushes himself to his feet and after a moment of hesitation, he heads upstairs to retrieve some clothes. He eases the bedroom door open and breathes a sigh of relief to find that Morgan isn't inside. However, after a quick search of the room, he feels even more like a jackhole, because Morgan has meticulously put all of his things away.

Once he has located his clothing, he grabs what he needs for the day and heads to the bathroom. A quick, hot shower is just what he needs to work out the pain and wake himself. Once done, he dresses quickly. A pair of simple, comfortable jeans that aren't too tight or too loose. A thin sweater of emerald green that hangs just past the swell of his backside, and a pair of old, worn black trainers. He runs his fingers through his hair and then heads downstairs. 

When he nears the living room, he can hear voices. He doesn't really -mean- to eavesdrop, it just kinda happens.

"It's going to be okay, baby. The poor boy's been through something horrible. Give it time, Derek, and I'm sure everything will be good between you, okay? He's a sensitive boy and it's going to take time. Just remember, you two are good friends and nothing is going to change that." Fran's voice is even, confident, earnest. She truly believes that there isn't a single thing that could mess up their friendship, and maybe she's right. Either way, he feels guilty for treating Morgan the way he had yesterday.

"I know, Momma, I know, but it's hard. I mean, the guy is drowning right in front of me and it's like he won't even let me throw him a rope or something. Every time I try to help, he either insists that everything is okay, or does something to drive me away. A man can only take so much, Momma." 

"Derek, yes, it's hard on you to be pushed away, but has it ever occurred to you that it's just as hard on him to be constantly pushed to talk before he's ready? It's a two way street, dear. Try and give him some more time, let him arrive at the conclusion that he needs you on his own, okay? This isn't something you can force, son." Huh. He's suddenly over come with a need to hug the mother figure for -understanding- when even his best friend can't. So, he steps into the room and goes straight to the chair she's sitting in. With no explanation or preamble, he leans over and hugs her gently, causing her to make a happy sound and hug him back.

"You look well rested this morning, son, though I imagine the couch wasn't all that comfortable. Better than the doghouse, though." She squeezes him gently and then lets go and he finds himself standing awkwardly in the living room, unable to look at Morgan. "Is there anything I can get you, Spencer?" 

"No thank you, Fran." He flashes her a tired smile before he turns and settles on the couch as far from Derek as he can. It's not subtle, but neither is the rather irritated aura bleeding off of Derek where he's sitting with his arms crossed over his chest. It's no surprise that Reid has managed to alienate his best friend within the first few days of their vacation.

"Are you hungry, Reid?" Ow. Just .. ow. The use of his last name is a barbed arrow tip piercing his heart and he knows that he has to suck it up and deal.

"Yeah, a little bit, Der." He glances between the two of them, can feel the tension that has leaked into the room since he arrived. How is he supposed to fix it? "We could go grab a bite to eat somewhere?" There's something about the prospect of getting out of here that is appealing to him. Maybe he will even be able to be civil and stop screwing things up if they get out for a bit.

"That sounds like wonderful idea, Spence." Fran stands from the chair, stretching, before she walks over and claps him lightly on the arm. "Let me go grab my purse." When she heads toward her room, Spencer is left feeling anxious and uncertain of himself.

"I'm sorry. For yesterday. For calling you Morgan instead of Derek and for snapping at you." He licks his bottom lip, unable to make himself -look- at his best friend as he speaks. "But I'm probably going to keep on snapping if you keep trying to force me to talk, Der. I will, you know? I -will- talk, when I'm ready, and not before. All that this pushing does is make me feel boxed in and that is never good. You know that. So please, just stop asking. I'll talk when I'm ready. Okay?"

He braces himself for the worse, finding himself plagued by fear. He cannot help but think that he has managed to completely ruin this for himself. He doesn't get to keep good things and Derek is as good as it gets. He finally forces himself to glance toward the other end of the couch, and is surprised to see how damn -sad- Morgan looks. He wishes he knew how to interpret that sadness. Instead, he feels useless.

"Okay, baby boy. I'll stop pushing. For now." The words should be comforting, reassuring, because it means that he is getting exactly what he -wants-. However ... he cannot help but wonder if maybe this is an instance of when he should get what he -needs-, instead. But then, even -he's- not sure what exactly it is he needs right now.

"Thank you, Derek."

* * *

The days pass in a strange sort of monotonous blur. Reid wakes up, usually with Morgan's arm draped securely around him. Tries to remain as still as possible just to enjoy the moment. However, it lasts only a few minutes before he begins to feel so guilty that he has to get up and leave the room.

The days are filled with him and Morgan on the couch watching television, taking Fran out to eat, shopping, and spending the evenings in front of a warm fire, laughing. Morgan had even talked Reid into playing Monopoly with them. It was .. interesting. The most fun he's ever had playing a child's game.

Before he knows it, they are a full week into their vacation and he doesn't even realize it at first. Every thing has become so comfortable and pleasant, that he feels at -home- and that is scary. It makes him feel sick, but not so much that he doesn't continue to relax the more time he stays here.

A lot of that relaxation is due to the fact that Morgan has finally stopped pushing him to talk. They have managed to settle into a sense of peace and comfort with each other that has Reid feeling .... odd. There are so many new experiences and emotions being attached to his best friend that it's hard for him to keep everything straight in his mind. Not a problem he has often faced.

"You in there, pretty boy?" He shakes his head vaguely to clear it, stretching his arms over his head before he manages to rub his hands down his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Zoned out for a moment." He shakes himself lightly, makes sure that all of the kinks in his body have relaxed before he glances to the other end of the couch where Morgan is resting. "So, what did I miss?"

Morgan is stretched out, feet on the coffee table, hands clasped behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling.

"Nothing much, Spence. The last episode just ended, so was trying to decide what to watch. Asked if you wanted to go out tonight, maybe catch a movie and get some dinner. Or, if you'd rather, I could cook us up something and we can eat with Momma." A note of nervousness has crept into the older man's voice and it makes no sense to Reid. There is absolutely nothing for Morgan to be nervous about. "Either way would be good with me, baby boy." 

"Okay." He drawls the word out as a placeholder, to give himself some time to think. Dinner and a movie sounds perfect, which is why he's inclined to deny it. It would be too much like going on a date and with the continued slip of baby boy, he doesn't think his psyche would survive an almost-date with Morgan. 

"Okay? Care to elaborate there, doc?" The playful tone in his voice is slightly strained, but before Reid can say anything, there's a knock at the front door. Morgan quirks a brow but shrugs and jumps up to answer it. While he's doing that, Reid repositions himself on the couch. Moves so that he's pressed against the arm and back, feet pulled up and to the side. 

"Derek!?" Desiree's voice is familiar, despite the fact that Reid only ever heard it on the one occasion. He pulls himself a little tighter against the arm of the couch. "I can't believe you're visiting! Why didn't Momma tell me you were coming down?" There's a bit of playful accusation in the words, and the sound of rustling and a thunk that suggests she hit Derek in the arm.

"Because she didn't know we were visiting, it was a surprise I planned out." The sound of the front door closing has Reid dry swallowing again. He's not sure -why- he feels so shaken and untethered around Morgan's family, but he does. In fact, he feels almost as if he's got something to prove. Like, if he somehow isn't -perfect- they will find a way to end his friendship with Morgan and he just can't let that happen! Morgan is the best friend he has ever had. 

"We? What do you mean we, Derek? Ohh, you bring a lady friend home to meet Momma?" Reid's cheeks erupt in a blush and he finds himself actually calculating the distance from the couch to the stairs and ultimately, their room. It would be running away, but he'd run any day of the week if it meant not having to deal with this kind of embarrassment.

"Oh please, ain't ever been a woman good enough to bring home to meet Momma." Reid snort softly, eyes managing to close again as he wriggles a little until he gets comfortable. Considering that he has never seen Morgan with the same girl more than once, he can see where that might be true. Though, why had -he- warranted a visit here? He still hasn't figured that one out yet. "Nah, I said we because Spencer's here, too." The sudden squeal from the hallway doesn't prepare him for Desiree coming around the corner and nearly tripping into the back of the couch.

"Dr. Reid!!" She squeaks and literally falls over the back of the couch so that she's sprawled on top of him. His eyes have gone wide, his mouth fallen open in shock as she latches onto him and hugs him close. "I can't believe you came back! Took you long enough, pretty boy." 

"Uh-uh, now. You don't go start calling him that, Desi." Derek playfully cautions from the back of the couch, having just now made his way in.

"Why not? He -is- a pretty boy!" Reid manages to yank himself out from under the woman, sliding down to the other side of the couch with a huff.

"Only Der gets to call me that." Reid points out softly, running his hands through his hair, hrmphing as he settles into a mirror image of how he had been laying earlier. "But you don't have to call me Dr. Reid, either." Desiree is pouting as she carefully settles in a sitting position. She doesn't move back toward him, but she does brighten after a moment.

"Ok! Then I'll call you .. sweetheart. You're such a sweetie, Dr. Reid." He blushes deeply, turning to hide his head in the arm of the couch. How in the world did he get himself into a situation like this? Fran being so motherly, Derek and Desiree flirtations ... he feels like the only object that doesn't fit into this picture. 

"Or you could just call him Spencer, Desi." Morgan bites those words out with some small bit of affection but also with a gentle warning. Again, Reid has no clue what's going on here, but whatever it is, Desiree seems to get it, because she stands from the couch and smiles.

"It's good to see you again, Spencer. I'm gonna go say hi to Momma." With that, she slips out of the room, headed toward the kitchen. Leaving Spencer even more confused then ever. Morgan rounds the couch once she's gone, plopping down next to him. Despite the fact that he's pressed into the far end of the couch, leaving the rest of it open, Derek chose to plant himself right beside him. On the verge of being in his personal space.

"Sorry about that. Apparently, you left quite an impression last time. She asks after you every time we talk." There's a faint undercurrent of strain to Morgan's words. As if he really doesn't want to admit that Desiree has asked after him. Which, why should he want to conceal that? Isn't it normal for a sibling to ask after another sibling's friends? He's so very confused!

"Oh, well, I'm glad she liked me enough to ask after me." Morgan looks pained for a moment before he manages to shutter his emotions and angle his face down. Okay .. what had Reid done wrong -now-!? He's beginning to get whiplash with Morgan's mood changes! He bites at his bottom lip, trying to suss everything out.

"Yeah, she's more and more curious every time we talk." Morgan continues to look down, and every second his best friend's eyes are hidden, he grows a little more anxious.

"Der .. did I say or do something wrong?" His voice cracks on the word wrong, and he feebly tries to clear his throat. Morgan's eyes finally rise to meet his, and they are wide and open with apology and sadness.

"What? No, Spence, you didn't do anything wrong, man. I'm just .. bein' stupid. It happens from time to time." Morgan tries to smile but it's cracked and broken at the edges. Reid finds that ... well, that he wants to lean forward and heal that smile with a brush of lips but he can't. He's not good at reading situations and he's pretty sure that he would lose the most important friendship of his life if he acted on that impulse. "Why don't we all go out to eat, hmm? We can all catch up and don't have to worry about clean up back here. I'll go tell the girls." Morgan practically jumps from the couch and jogs from the room, leaving Reid feeling confused and utterly lost. He should not feel this alone when there are so man people surrounding him.

He crawls off the couch and heads up stairs to put on some proper clothes. It takes next to no time for him to shower and dry off. Then pull on boxers, a pair of skinny black jeans, and a red thumb-hole, hooded sweater that is slightly too big on him, but is really comfortable. When he gets downstairs, everyone is waiting. Derek is talking to Fran and Desiree is leaning next to the closed door. Her eyes widen when she sees Reid walking toward them. She gives him an obvious once over and he manages, by some miracle, not to flinch. 

"Oh wow. I take it back, Spence. Pretty -really- doesn't do you any justice." He suddenly wonders if it's too late to charge up the stairs and feign illness so that he doesn't have to go with them. Oddly, it is Fran that rescues him. She walks forward and gently loops her arm through his, glaring at her daughter.

"Leave Spence alone, Desi. How on Earth is he supposed to relax with you making him so uncomfortable? Behave." Morgan moves to his other side, leaving Desiree to open the door and lead them out to the car. Not surprising, he ends up in the back seat next to Morgan, with Fran insisting she drive, and Desiree sit with her. He's immensely thankful to Momma Morgan.

They arrive at a small diner and for some reason, Spence is already grinning at the place. It's nothing special, nothing that stands out, but he's pretty sure that it's a Morgan Family place, the kind of place they come every chance they get when the family is together, so it's special that he's being brought here. It makes him feel so happy, special, and wanted.

Within a few minutes, they are seated at a table. Fran is at the head of it, Desiree to her left, Reid and Morgan to her right. Reid had honestly expected to be settled on the outside, but was surprised to find he is between Mother and Son. A position of honor, maybe?

"So Spence, there's so much we didn't get to talk about last time, given the situation, and no matter how many times I asked, Derek wouldn't give me your number." He tenses, glad that Derek knew him well enough not to give it to her. It would make him uncomfortable to have a stranger getting in touch with him.

"I told you, Desi, if he wanted you to have his number, he'd have to give it to you himself. He doesn't like strangers gettin' in touch with him." Reid ducks his head to hide a smile. Morgan really does know him, to be able to pluck that thought straight out of his mind and speak it aloud.

"Well, you could've at least -asked- him if I could have it." Desi actually -pouts- at that, and Reid cannot help but scowl.

"And you could at least -speak- like I'm -here-, Desiree." Reid bites the words out, frowning, watching Desi's eyes widen in surprise and then watching her scowl faintly.

"I didn't mean any disrespect by it, sweetheart. I'm just curious why Derek gets to keep you all to himself, that's all. After all, Momma taught him he has to -share-." Reid had started to relax once he understood that this was a sibling thing .. until those last words. Because -share- makes him sound like some kind of -toy- and there's no way in hell that he's okay with that. Not in the least. He shoves his chair back suddenly, standing easily to his feet. Morgan is up in an instant, frowning, practically vibrating with concern.

"I'm suddenly not that hungry." He turns and leans to hug Fran awkwardly. "Sorry, Momma. I think I'm just gonna head home." He then turns to look at Morgan, smiling thinly. "Thanks for inviting me." He reaches out to squeeze his friend's arm, stalling any chance Morgan might have at protesting, keeping his best friend from asking to go with him. He turns and exits the restaurant quickly, running away even if he doesn't want to admit that.

Morgan turns and snarls angrily at his sister, eyes blazing with his fury.

"What in the hell is your problem, Desi!?" His words are almost screamed in volume, though by some miracle he's managing to keep a tight reign on it. "What on Earth made you say something like that to Spencer!?"

"What? It's -true-, Derek. You talk about him all the damn time, and we never would've gotten to meet him if you hadn't been arrested. And he hasn't been back since! Sorry for being a bit curious about the guy. Why are you hiding him from us?" He's seething, breath short and stuttered. He wants to throttle his sister.

"Because, Desiree, he's my best friend and he doesn't trust people easy or like them very well! So you're damn straight I've been -hiding- him! And with good reason, since the second time you've seen him, you've managed to run him off with that damn mouth of yours!" He can feel his fingers flexing, furling and unfurling as he struggles to keep his temper in check. 

"Enough!" Momma Morgan has taken to her feet, eyes wide with anger and concern as she stares her children down. "No wonder he took off, the way you two are acting! You'd think I raised a bunch of mannerless heathens or something! Desiree, stop pickin' on your brother about Spencer. He's a good boy, and if he doesn't want you to have his number, that's his choice. He's been through a lot and the last thing that poor boy needed was you badgering him. And Derek! You're doin' him no favors trying to coddle him the way you are! You're worried, I get that, but don't let that worry smother him, okay?" She forces herself to sit back down, nodding at the two chairs next to her, making her children sit as well. She's hoping that she's wrong .. she -really- is, but she knows that she's not. Spencer had said -home- and sadly, she knows that her place isn't home. So, she'll keep her kids here, give Spence the time to make up his mind and go from there.

"Now, figure out what you want to eat. We're going to give Spence time to cool off, so we're gonna sit here and have a nice meal. No arguing from either of you!"

"Yes, Momma." Both of her children murmur their agreement, grabbing up their menus and glaring at them.

* * *

Spencer scrunches lower in his seat, wincing. He's doing everything in his power not to turn and look at the window. The last thing he wants right now is to see the ground so far away. If the first plane ride had been uncomfortable, Morgan's absence has made this one hell. He's doing everything in him to stare straight ahead and concentrate on keeping himself calm. 

He hates himself a little for doing this. For running away from Momma Morgan's place, but he just couldn't stay there any longer. It was too complicated. Waking up with Morgan while the man called him Baby Boy every day, while Momma doted on him and cooed over him. And then Desiree .. well, she had been the straw that broke the camel's back. The deciding factor in getting out of there before it became too surreal. A week away from reality should be enough to keep him grounded in the real world.

He stifles a laugh, hands pressed against his mouth to silence himself. He's still got a little bit of a trip ahead of him. He curls into his seat, eyes closing. He hopes Morgan won't be too pissed at him, but he isn't really holding his breath, either. He has committed an offense, even if he didn't mean to.


	4. The Decision

* * *

**_Stars are not small or gentle._  
They are writhing and dying and burning.  
They are not here to be pretty.  
I am trying to learn from them.  
\- Caitlyn Siehl**

* * *

The last week of his vacation went exactly as he expected it to. He stayed in, read too much, moped too much, and generally ignored all phone calls. No one ever knocked at his door, so he assumes Morgan had either been told by Momma to lay off him, or was truly too angry to be bothered. He's not sure which he would rather it be. Both had merit, both had the potential to break his heart. Either way, he's gone an entire week without being called baby boy and it hurts worse than he ever imagined it could.

Part of him would rather put up with Morgan unknowingly calling him that, then to never hear it again. The other part of him is tired of being in pain because of feelings he has no control over. He just really wishes they would go away!

Of course, the fact that he has to now go into work and see the man he spent a wonderful week with and then bailed on .. isn't exactly helping his current state or anything. But he can do this. He's nothing if not professional. He steels himself, tries to reinforce his personal barriers as he forces himself to enter the building and head toward his desk. 

He settles his messenger bag on the ground by his feet, leaning back in his chair as he allows his eyes to close. He didn't sleep well the night before. Nightmares of Tobias and Tybal interspersed with memories of his Mom and Momma Morgan. He awoke no less than nine times during the night, covered in sweat and trembling. It was so bad, he dreaded going back to sleep, even though he knew he needed to.

The sound of footsteps draws him from his mind. He opens his eyes in just enough time to see Morgan pass his desk on the way to his own. He has a brown paper bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Reid manages not to flinch at the lack of coffee for himself. Yup, pissed off, alright. He exhales the negative energy away, prepared to put all of this behind him when a coffee cup suddenly appears on the desk in front of him. He glances up, smiles, when he sees JJ standing there, a big, beautiful smile offered to him.

"Here you go, Spence." He picks up the coffee, smiling as he takes a drink of it. So delicious! "Hope you enjoyed your vacation." His smile vanishes immediately and he sets the cup back down after a moment.

"Thanks, JJ." He doesn't comment beyond that, just watches her smile falter before she turns and heads toward her office. Watching her lets him see Morgan from the corner of his eye. Tense, staring hard at his pastry and coffee, refusing to look up. Okay, he may have messed up far worse than he thought he had. How in the hell is he supposed to make this better!?

He leans back in his seat, staring at the cup in his hand. Lost in thought.

"Hey there, baby girl." Morgan's warm, flirtatious voice cuts right through him, leaves him feeling gutted and cold. "Yeah, listen, I need you to do me a favor, okay?" Morgan stands from his desk, cell phone pressed to his ear, quickly stepping away from those that could listen to the conversation.

He's not jealous, okay? He is -not- jealous, in the least! Morgan has every right to call Garcia whatever he wants and that's perfectly fine. Just fine. Yup.

The coldness continues to seep through him and he has no idea how to rekindle the warmth he had felt during the vacation. The coffee cup is empty within minutes and he tosses it into the trash. He's no longer in the mood for caffeine, which should be a big red flag that something's up. But it's so very hard for a profiler to profile themselves. 

For half an hour, he struggles to focus on his work. The moment Morgan stepped back to his desk, Reid was acutely aware of the fact that he had returned, but he never actually looks at him. He's afraid of what will happen if he looks, of how he will act. It's been a long time since he has had so much reason to doubt himself.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, almost jerking in surprise when Rossi clears his throat at the edge of his desk.

"Reid, would you like some more coffee?" He forces himself to look up, eyes narrowed a little against the light that is halo-ing Rossi.

"Uhm, no thanks, Rossi." He flashes a smile and is just looking back down at the pile of papers on his desk when he hears something clatter to the side. On instinct, reflex, his gaze lifts to see Morgan scrambling to pick up a few file folders that had slipped from his hand. His handsome features are caught somewhere between disbelief and concern and Reid wants to curse internally. Of course Morgan would be watching even if he didn't appear to be doing so. And just like with the stupid sugar container, this is a huge banner stating something is wrong. He makes himself pull his gaze away from Morgan's concern, smiling up at a perplexed looking Rossi. "Thanks for asking, though." He grabs a file folder and pulls it in front of him, quietly opens it to the next bit of paperwork on his to-do list. Silently prays that Rossi will let it go and walk away.

It takes almost a full minute, but the sound of Rossi's receding footsteps allows Reid to breathe a little easier. He hunches his shoulders, wincing at the twinge in them from a night spent waking too often and turning too much. He bites at his bottom lip, zeroing in on any details that will pull him from thoughts of the Morgans. Fran ... Desiree .... Derek ... they are a minefield his brain is no longer equipped to walk, somehow ruined by two simple words: baby boy.

"Morgan. Hey baby girl ... yeah, great. Thanks. I'll be there in a bit." He's really not jealous! That searing, burning pain in his gut is simply the lack of scalding coffee that it's used to. The faint wetness at the corners of his eyes ... well, there's bound to be a dozen different allergens in the air, right? And the ache in his chest .. okay, he can't explain that one away immediately but that still doesn't mean it's jealousy. Okay? 

He hunches a little further over his work, feeling as if he is about to unravel at some imaginary seam. All he can think, picture, -remember- is he sensory overload of Morgan's arm there, holding him together. Now that he no longer has that, he feels as if it's only a matter of time before it happens. Before he finally falls apart, a frayed mess with no hope of being reassembled. 

".. Reid?" He blinks slowly, shivering a single time before he levels his gaze on JJ's worried features. Ah, JJ. The sister he never had but secretly wished for. She's been there for him in so many ways, and he will always be thankful for her.

"Sorry. Yes?" He flashes another smile, hopes that it reaches his eyes, but doesn't think it will. Smiling can be too hard sometimes, and right now, with the echoes of baby girl in his mind ... well, it's definitely one of those too hard times.

"I was just telling you that I hope you'll come over sometime soon. Will and Henry have been asking after you. It'd be really great if you could visit." There is such an honest, earnest sincerity to her words that he finds himself quickly blinking back tears and ducking his head. Sometimes he forgets. Yes, Morgan is his best friend, but the rest of the team are family. JJ and Prentiss are his sisters, Rossi and Hotch are like his Dads. He forgets that he can turn to them whenever he needs. Not to say that he often uses them as a crutch, but sometimes, it's okay to do just that. 

"Thanks, JJ." He carefully places his hand on her arm. A controlled touch, hoping that she understands the true depth of his gratitude. Her bright, eye crinkling smile suggests that she does. "I might take you up on that offer soon." He squeezes her arm and then pulls back. Turns in just enough time to see Morgan openly scowling at the two of them before he turns and takes off. Given his direction and swiftness .. well, Reid tries not to feel jealous of the fact that he's headed off to see Garcia. 

JJ watches him for a moment longer before she turns and heads toward her office again. He leans back in his chair, fishing his cell phone out. He contemplates calling Momma, but he doesn't want to burden her with his own problems. Especially not after having left without saying goodbye. He is swimming in a lake of guilt over that, but at the same time, he cannot help but feel that she understands. She's a Mom, after all, she has to understand that sometimes, kids just need to take off, no matter how long they've been grown.

He stares at the phone for the longest time before frowning when he realizes that he has a missed voice message. He braces himself before he calls voicemail and enters his password.

No surprise .. it's his Mom. A ranting, raving message half full of delusions half full of very real pleading. It breaks his heart every time he hears from her. Reminds him that he's a terrible son that pawned her off in a facility rather than try and take care of her himself. It's not true, but it may as well be for how damn guilty he feels over it. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and at the same time, resists the urge to throw the phone down on his desk and shatter it with something. Instead, he saves the voicemail and shoves the mobile into his pocket. Up and out of the desk, and within moments, he's standing alone in the break room. Staring at the wall as if it will somehow morph into the answer to all his problems. As if. 

Time becomes a strange, flowing thing and he has no idea how long he's been standing there. 

"Are you going to move or not, Reid??" Morgan's voice is harsh. Drained of all friendship and affection, it's now a singular note of distaste. Has he truly fallen so far, that Morgan cannot even bare to speak his last name with civility? He wipes at his eyes discreetly, making sure that he had not cried while he stares off into the void.

"Sorry." He mumbles just loud enough to be heard, his word met with a derisive snort from his best friend. 

"Yeah, whatever. Just move, Reid." The genius quickly side steps from his position, turning as quickly as he can to try and run away. He's gotten good at that.

"Running again, huh? Guess practice makes perfect, kid." That word. A vocal slap to the very depths of his soul and he feels shaken to the core. Has he been wounded? Could he reach down and find some point of entry covered in blood? Because it feels as if the word -kid- has cut him to the quick. His hands dive down, wrap tightly in the wrinkled waistband of his pants as he wages an internal war. What should he say? Should he cop to his cowardice, try to explain what he hell is going through his mind?? Maybe he should try and tell Morgan that this is at least half his fault for all the mixed verbal messages he's been sending, but that is probably all his own fault, too. Surely he had simply misinterpreted something as he always does, read into something that simply wasn't there. Why on earth would Morgan ever flirt with him? Pretty Boy ... Baby Boy ... they're all just words with no meaning. Empty nicknames Morgan would've given to any young man he had been forced to work with at the BAU. That Spencer is that young man is nothing but coincidence and he needs to get a handle on all of this. Fast.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't explain or excuse. He just turns and walks silently from the room, his hand falling to cup his mobile through his pocket. His decision has been made. Or, well, the possibilities have been cataloged and the final decision will soon come. He stops at his desk, grabs his messenger bag and then turns to head up to Hotch's office. 

The conversation goes something like this:

"Excuse me, Hotch, can I have a minute?"

"Of course, Reid, what do you need?"

"I need the afternoon off, please. I can take a vacation day if I need to."

"No, that's okay. We're just working through back logged paperwork. Is every thing okay?"

"Yeah, just .. some personal stuff I need to look in to. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Okay. Just .. have a good afternoon, Spencer." 

It's nothing unusual beyond the fact that Reid is asking to leave. It's no different than any other conversation they've held in the course of their working career together, and yet, it leaves Reid feeling as heavy as a lead balloon and leaves Hotch feeling utterly on edge. Spencer turns and exits the office, forcing himself to act as normal as possible. The last thing he needs is for Hotch to suspect that something might truly be wrong. He makes a quick stop at HR and then heads out.

* * *

He doesn't head home, though. He finds himself driving around almost endlessly for several hours. Every minute bleeds together into a tapestry of blurred vehicles, hunger pangs, and desperate emotions. Had he been keeping track of time, he would've realized he's been driving for nearly five hours. That the team had probably left the office a good hour and a half ago, and that he has done absolutely nothing in that time to actually take care of himself. He pulls into a gas station to fill his tank and pay before he climbs back behind the wheel and just sits there.

Staring off into space.

None of this is helping him. None of this is getting to the root of his problem and deciding what he should do. What decision needs to be made. He leans forward, lets forehead connect with steering wheel just shy of a bash. Relishes in the faint pain for a moment before he makes a decision. Not -the- decision, but a decision none the less. He leans back in his seat, starts the car and takes off at a speed faster than what he would normally use.

It doesn't take long for him to get there ... JJ and Will's place. He is a mess when he arrives. Rumpled and incoherent. Two seconds from looking as disheveled and out of place as his Mother would in a similar situation. He has knocked twice before the door opens, a wide eyed Will standing before him.

"Spencer .." He speaks the name with calm caution and it is a soothing balm Reid hadn't realized he needed. "JJ told me you walked out of work in a bit of a state. Come on in." A hand reaches out, cautiously takes hold of his shoulder and guides him into the home. A home, not a house. Just like Momma Morgan's place. He allows himself to be carefully herded inside, the sound of Will's voice washing over him. "Lemme get you in here. Sit for a minute, Spence." Will's voice is one that Spencer has heard a hundred times. It's usually the soft, gentle voice Morgan uses when dealing with kids or a traumatized witness. The fact that Will's using his cop voice on him should be ... painful, nut it isn't. It's so damn reassuring. It softens and gentles Reid's soul, leaves him better equipped to handle whatever is going on here. 

He finds himself settled on a couch. One he's been on dozens of times before. It became a symbol of belonging and safety and still feels that way. He is vaguely aware of Will moving around the house though he also notices a distinct lack of Henry making noise. Where could his Godson be? Not that he has much brain power to devote to the thought, because he feels so damn sleepy. A hand on his shoulder guides him to his feet.

"Come on. I gotcha." Still, Will is being so very calming and reassuring. It's easy to see how JJ fell in love with this man. Hell, he'd probably have a bit of a hero worship crush if he were prone to such things, but he's really not. Which is why he knows that he's not the least bit jealous of Garcia being Morgan's Baby Girl. He is -not- prone to such things. "Here you go." Will's kind voice cuts through his thoughts, draws him back to the moment to realize that the other man has managed to take his messenger bag and change him from his work clothes to a simple set of shorts and sleep shirt, and is now carefully guiding him into the guest bed. He doesn't hesitate. He falls tiredly under the covers, shivering as they are pulled up to his shoulders and tucked in around him. "Try to rest. It's gonna be alright." He merely nods, rubs his cheek absently against the pillow beneath it and settles himself in. He's not expecting to sleep, but he's sure as hell hoping to.

* * *

He is awoken some time later by the quiet ruffling of material. He forces his head up, peering into the relative dark of the room to see small, wide eyes looking back at him. He plasters on a smile, fake but real enough to satisfy a child, and tiredly pats the bed beside him.

"Heya, Henry." He manages to eek out the words in the midst of a yawn, but the child understands because he squeaks happily as he climbs up, onto the bed and settles down. "Wanna take a nap with your Godfather?" A gurgled yes is all the answer he gets before Henry has curled up to him and given a rather impressive yawn of his own. He smiles at the boy and snuggles him close as he drops off to sleep.

* * *

"How are our boys?" JJ's voice is soft as silk, though pitted with holes of concern and worry. The state that Spencer had been in today at work had worried her. She had retreated to her office twice to call Will and vent her frustrated worries to him. He had done every thing in his power to calm and reassure her while sharing in her worries as well. Having seen the way Spencer arrived, he can understand why she was as frantic as she had been.

"They're both sleepin'. Spence has been out of it since he got here, and Henry insisted on stayin' with him. I figured it couldn't hurt nothin.' What's goin' on, JJ?" He cannot hid the utter concern lacing his voice, no matter how hard he tries. Because his wife is right .. they are -both- their boys and he is concerned that something is wrong with their oldest. Not that he'd ever tell Spence that he has adopted him in some ways. He's pretty sure the man would have a dozen different psychological things to say about it, but it wouldn't change the truth. Spencer Reid is family and he and his wife have a bad habit of worrying about family.

"Honestly? I have no clue, Will. He went off on a two week vacation and he came back acting odd. I had to bring him coffee this morning, and then when Rossi offered to get him more, he turned it down. He went into the break room this afternoon and within a few minutes of leaving there, he had asked Hotch for the day off. I'm worried about him but I don't have the first clue how to find out what's wrong." She turns into her husband, looping an arm around his waist and leaning into him. She hates this. Hates feeling powerful in the face of a loved ones suffering. 

"Well, JJ, all we can do is let him know we're here for him. That if he needs to talk, we'll listen. That if he needs to sleep, we'll keep tuckin' him in. If he needs anything, we are here for him. That's all family can do." He leans over to kiss her temple before he nods toward the door. She hesitates for a moment before she ducks into the guest room. When she realizes that he's awake, she carefully perches on the edge of the bed. She reaches out on instinct and gently runs her fingers through his disheveled hair, causing him to smile wanly.

"How are you doing, Spence?" His eyes trail to Henry, making sure that the little boy hasn't woken up, before he turns his attention back on his friend.

"Tired. Really, really tired, but okay beyond that, I think. Thanks for letting me stay, JJ." His eyes fall to half mast as her fingers continue to toy with his hair.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay as long as you want, Spence, you know that. Me and Will, we love having you here, and Henry's happy whenever he can see you." She smiles at him, turning to watch her baby boy sleeping next to her friend. "Is there anything I can get you?" It's a supplemental question, since she can't come right out and ask if there's anything she can -do- for him to make it better. This is the best she can offer until he's ready to talk about it. His eyes flash toward the door, where they both know Will is lingering, ready to spring into action if he can do anything for his friend. 

"I .. uhm ..." He fumbles through the words, unable to voice what he actually wants. JJ's hand stills and this time, her smile is so very maternal. It seems Reid is collecting Mothers as he goes.

"It's alright, Spence. Move over." She lifts a hand and gestures toward the door, and Will is within the room in a moment. Spencer carefully lifts Henry and moves him to the middle of the bed, wrapping protectively around him. JJ moves to lay on Henry's other side, her arm extended so that it encompasses both him and Reid. Will gets comfortable on Spencer's side, his own arm cast over Reid and Henry, so that his hand rests on JJ. Allowing both of the parents to 'cage' the two youths in as they snuggle close. The tableau of a perfect family.

"Sleep, Spence. We'll be here when you get up." Surprisingly, it is Will that whispers those words moments before Spence is indeed asleep again.

* * *

He awakes with a soft groan, his body aching, his head pounding and his soul wounded. Though that last one is hard to prove. He carefully looks around, notices that JJ and Henry are still in bed, but Will isn't. He flashes back on the reassurance that they would be there when he woke up and some petty part of him practically howls to call Will a liar when he's absent, but he knows better. He silently crawls out of the bed and pads from the room, headed straight for the kitchen.

Because he knows that that is where Will is waiting for him. How he knows, he's not sure. Assumes it's a logical conclusion drawn by all the knowledge he has stored of his friend.

Will is sitting at the kitchen table, carefully steeping two mugs of tea and Reid is undeniably touched by the paternal action. He has even pulled out English muffins and toasted them with a smear of nutella. Spence's stomach rumbles in protest even as his heart skips a fond beat. He makes his way to the table, settling in front of his friend as the plate and mug are pushed toward him.

"Thanks, Will. How .. how did you know?"

"You and Henry are a lot alike, Spence. Don't do no good trying to pry things outta ya. You'll spill when you're good an' ready. 'Course, having something to drink and a little treat on hand tends to help." Reid blushes deeply and ducks his head as he carefully fishes the tea bag out of his mug. He sniffs at the contents before he adds a touch of honey crystals and a little lemon.

"Thanks. Morgan kept pressuring me to tell him what was wrong and JJ kept coming out of her office just to -stare- at me. They didn't seem to understand that I'd talk when I felt like it." He grabs one of the muffins, carefully takes a bite and chews it as a means to give himself time to think.

"They worry about you, that's all." Will interjects the perfect words, of course. Taking neither side, but speaking reason. Something Reid has always appreciated about him.

"Yeah, I know, and I appreciate it, I do. But .. things have just gotten complicated." He actually laughs after he says that. How cliche is that!? Complicated .. life is a complication, but still he found himself saying that. He reaches back to rub at a tight shoulder, eyes closing as he hovers over his midnight snack.

"Life is complicated, Spence. That's just a fact. But if you need anything, you know we're here for you." And of course he knows that! They have always been here for him, just as most of the team is here for him. Except for Morgan. The one he most wants to be here for him. He sips the scalding liquid, pays no mind to the heat biting at his lips and inner cheeks, burning his throat as he swallows it.

"I went on vacation and it was great for the first week. But then I was presented with something that I desperately wanted but couldn't have and I was very uncomfortable. So, I came back here to finish out the vacation. It was pleasant .. not as nice as the first week had been, but pleasant. Then I got to work and realized that during that last week, my entire world had changed and I'm not sure I can ever put it to rights again." He tries to breathe, suddenly finds that each inhalation is like waging a war and he's not sure he'll ever win. "And then I got a message from my Mom and I've been neglecting her and I'm just not sure I can stay here doing what I'm doing any more, Will. But if I leave, then I let the entire team down and JJ will be upset and I'll miss Henry so damn much. You, too. I'll miss you and is it really worth leaving if I'm going to hurt people? I just, I don't --" His breathing is now a hurricane gale force of impossible and he feels the sudden application of a tight, desperate hug anchoring him to the spot. Keeping him steady in the eye of the storm.

"Shhh. It's okay, Spence. Just breath with me. Breath with me. That's it." He follows Will's orders, matches his breath to the other man's, fights the feeling of lightheadedness until he is feeling normal again. Or, at least, as normal as he's capable of feeling these days. He leans into the tight embrace, his head coming to rest on Will's shoulder as he shelters in his comforting embrace. "That's it now, son, you got it." The familial word slips out, because Will feels much as he would if he were taking care of Henry, trying to get him to calm down in the face of a fit. His heart goes out to Spencer, it really does. "You need to do me a favor, Spence. You need to stop thinking about everyone else. Just .. stop. Clear that big mind of yours and stop asking what if's, okay?" The man actually -waits- for Spencer to do so. He nods after a moment, and Will turns so that his chin is resting atop Reid's head. "I get it, I do. So much pressure to do right by all of them, but Spence, you've been doin' that long enough, son. Time you think about yourself. What's gonna make you happy, hmm?"

Reid sniffles a single time, willing his tears to remain at bay because he's cried enough, thanks. Even if he feels the same kind of freedom in Will's arms that he had felt in Momma Morgan's, he doesn't want to cry anymore. This isn't about Tybal or his past, it's about the possibility of his future. He bites at his inner cheek until he tastes the faint tinge of copper upon his tongue. He then carefully pulls out of Will's arms.

"I .. I don't really know, actually. I thought I did, but .. nothing came of it." He tries not to remember Morgan's arm around him ... tries not to picture the way the man had fidgeted until he was able to put his hand on his ankle. He damn well tries -not- to think about how Baby Boy sounds coming from that mouth. He shakes himself vehemently, swallows heavily and lifts his gaze to regard Will silently for a few moments. "Thank you, Will. I think I know what I have to do." He leans forward to hug him, before he reluctantly pulls away. "And thanks for letting me stay. I need to get home now. Tell JJ and Henry I love them?"

"Of course, Spence. Be safe." Reid stands and quickly heads back to the guest room to gather his things and change. 

Once home, he settles at his desk, pulls the forms he got from HR out of his messenger bag and begins to fill them out. In the end, Will's right .... all he can do is try to make a decision that will make him happy.


	5. The Fallout

* * *

__**My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.  
I love what I do not have. You are so far.  
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.** **  
\- Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair**

* * *

Morgan is not having the best day. Hell, he didn't have the best night, previous day, or day before that, either! He blames Reid. Top to bottom, all in, he blames Dr. Spencer Reid. First the asshole that's supposed to be his best friend ditches him at his Momma's house, without so much as a goodbye, then he doesn't take any of his calls. When they got to work after their vacation, Reid just sat at in his chair like nothing had happened! Tucked away behind his desk as if it were some kind of island, he never once looked at him. Not until he dropped a file when Reid refused coffee. That's so far beyond the pale it's not even funny.

And then, to make matters worse .. the fact that Reid had just stood there and took his verbal abuse when he talked about him running away. He hates himself for everything he said, but he's also pissed that his friend didn't try and fight back. That he had simply run again. This time, he hasn't bothered to try and call. He's not ready to make amends. 

Or, well, he -hadn't- been ready three days ago. The fact that Reid hasn't been into work for those three days is really starting to make him worry. If it weren't for the fact that Hotch and JJ seem to be cool as damn cucumbers right now, he'd be off on a damn tangent trying to find out what's going on with the other man. But they seem completely without worry, so he's giving them the benefit of the doubt. If something major was going on with Reid, they would've told the team already, right ... right!?

He swallows heavily, glaring down at his phone when it rings. The word MOMMA flashes on the screen and he fights a deep seated ache. She's been calling nonstop for the past three days, wanting an update on Reid and he just doesn't have any news for her. So, he shifts the phone to vibrate and sets it on the side of his desk for now. It pains him to ignore her, but anything is better than having to listen to the sound of pain in her voice as she tries to be subtle when she just can't pull it off. He knows that she blames him and Desi for Spence leaving early, but he can't figure out -why-. Well, Desi makes sense, since she had been teasing and popping off with Reid sitting -right there- but he just can't figure out how Momma thinks -he- plays into all of this. He knows he didn't do or say anything that should've driven his friend off. At least, he hasn't found anything in his near constant replaying of their shared vacation in his mind. 

He leans back in his seat, snagging his coffee cup and staring at the contents in distaste. He's been drinking too much of the stuff the last few days because he hasn't been sleeping for anything. Something about the necessity of it has taken away the pleasure of it. 

"I need everyone in the conference room. Get Garcia as well." Hotch's voice jerks him from his thoughts and he feels his breath shorten and his heartbeat rocket. Every nightmare he's had about Reid's absence feels as if it is coming true. He takes a second before he stands, grabs his mobile and clings to it for a minute. Once he's as steady as he's going to get, he shoves the phone into his pocket and heads to the conference room.

Somehow, he is the last one there. Even Garcia has managed to beat him. He tries not to glance at the two chairs that are left open. The chairs he and Reid would often occupy. He slides into one of them, not allowing himself to look at anyone, though he feels Garcia leaning toward him. He has nothing to say to her, he's too .. well, concerned. He doesn't want to say afraid, but it's close. Too damn close.

"Thank you all for coming." Hotch is standing at the front of the room and Morgan can feel his heart sink. Can feel a thin sheen of sweat collecting on the back of his neck. Because there are no case files, the monitor is dark .. there is nothing about a CASE in this room and he feels as if he might have a panic attack. Or be sick. Maybe both at the same time. 

"Uhm, sir, what exactly are we here for? I don't remember anything about a case, so I'm not sure what I can do here?" Garcia sounds .. oddly subdued. She, like most of them, isn't too big on change when it comes to the team(family) and this stinks of change. He reaches up, discreetly shoves his palm against his chest as if it will somehow make him breathe easier. 

"There's not a case at the moment, Penelope." Hotch using Garcia's first name confirms the worst to him. He scoots forward until he's on the edge of his seat, hands clasped tightly in his lap as he waits for the explanation he -really- doesn't want. "I've called you all here because the news just came through. As of 7 this morning, Dr. Spencer Reid has been transferred to another team." The room erupts into noise. Everyone but Hotch and JJ launching their own protests of confusion and anger on behalf of their friend. 

Well, he's not really protesting, either. Because he knows. While Prentiss, Rossi, and Garcia are firmly of the belief that Reid has been taken against his will, Morgan damn well knows better. Reid -chose- this and he has a feeling that it's his fault. Has a feeling that no matter who asks, Hotch will -not- tell them where Pretty Boy transferred to.

"Everyone, please calm down. His transfer is -not- political, I assure you. Reid .... Spencer ... chose to leave. I'm sorry." He speaks the last two words softly when met with the pain this knowledge brings everyone. Morgan jerks to his feet and turns, exiting the room even as Hotch calls his name several times. There's no way in hell he's sticking around to hear everyone lament Reid's absence. If the kid chose to leave, fine. That's all on him, no one else.

* * *

His anger is held at bay for all of ... eight minutes. Just enough time for him to make it to the Mens room and then he looses it. He kicks the trash bin, denting the metal as he growls and grunts. He punches the wall twice, clinging to enough of his senses that he doesn't punch it with all his force. His knuckles are scraped raw, bloodied and bruised, but thankfully nothing's broken. He makes it to the far wall before he slides down, flat to his ass. He rears back, smacks the back of his head against the wall with a whimper of pain and broken pride. 

He has screwed up so badly! Instead of trying to face this whole situation head on, he allowed himself to react stupidly and because of that, Reid is gone. Spence is gone. The truth is still half concealed by a veil of denial. If he has lost it this badly, torn up a bathroom at his place of -work- he can hardly guess how he's going to react once the full weight of this has settled on him. Once he can fully accept that Spencer has gone Lord knows where and doesn't want any of them following. If he did, Hotch would've told them exactly where it was that he had transferred. 

His head drops, falling into his trembling hands as he struggles to gain his breath. His heart is a jackhammer, his blood rushing through his ears so fast that he can't hear anything. Which explains why he doesn't realize someone has entered the bathroom until a timid hand is grabbing at his shoulder.

"Derek, you're scaring me!" Garcia's voice finally managed to break through the fog in his mind, rousing him from his troubled thoughts. She's knelt in front of him, eyes wide behind her glasses, hands trembling as she clings to him. He knows that she's hurting, too. She's the one least equipped to handle change among them. Even Reid had been a bit better at it than her. It should really be him comforting her, but he doesn't have the strength or mind power to do anything about it. He's falling apart and he doesn't even know -why-. 

"Sorry." He croaks the apology, voice like grit and gravel as he forces it out. "What are you doing in here, Garcia?" He doesn't mean to sound harsh, but it is the Mens room, after all. She gives a bit of a sheepish smile and shrugs a single shoulder.

"I was worried about you, sugar." He winces a little but nods before he pushes back against the wall so that he can carefully gain his feet. 

"There's nothing to worry about, Garcia." He doesn't bother to try and smile, doesn't really expect her to believe him, either. But he's not in the right frame of mind to talk about this. Not with her or anyone from work. What's he supposed to say? 'I think it's my fault Reid is gone? My bad!' Yeah, that'd go over real well. He cannot begin to explain why he feels as if he's at fault, or what he actually did that could've been so bad, because he doesn't understand it himself. 

"Yeah, try pulling the other one, sugar shack." She murmurs, standing with him. "What happened, Derek? I know you and Reid went on vacation together. It was too convenient that he asked for two weeks the day after you did." He winces at that, glad that she can't see him blush as he feels heat rushing to his cheeks. Okay, so at the time, he hadn't exactly been thinking about being subtle or anything. Reid obviously needed the break and it made sense. Plus .. well, if he's honest with himself, the thought of going two weeks without seeing his Pretty Boy had been a little more than he had handled, so several birds with one stone and all of that.

"Yeah, I guess that wasn't exactly subtle or anything. Not that I care that anyone knows, but whatever. Reid obviously needed the downtime and Momma really wanted to see him." The other part of it .. well, that's his business and his alone. He shifts uncomfortably, fighting back a frown. "And it was going really well, too. He was even calling her Momma and hadn't called me Morgan the entire time ... until he snapped at me for pushing him to talk. I agreed to back off and everything was perfect. We spent every day just doing -nothing- but relaxing. Watching tv on the couch, taking Momma out to eat. And then Desiree showed up and tried to call him Pretty Boy. We both shut that down ASAP, but she kept teasing him and talking about him like he wasn't there. We went out to eat and he walked out of the restaurant after she said some stupid stuff. When we got home, he just .. he was -gone-. No goodbye, no nothing." He's choking on his words. Each one is heavy and almost too hard to wrap his mouth around but he's doing his best. "He ignored all my calls after he left, and then acted like I wasn't even here. I, uh .. I said some things I wasn't proud of, and he left work. Now, he's transferred." He turns away from her, struggles not to lash out and punch the wall again. "It's my fault Baby Boy's gone, Garcia." 

His head falls to his hands again, eyes snapped closed as he tries to regulate his breathing. He's suddenly so damn tired. Like, he could crawl into bed and sleep for two days straight.

"Oh, Derek, sweetie." She reaches out, draws him into her arms and he leans against her with a tired sigh. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize anything had happened. I'm sure Reid didn't leave because of you." She squeezes him, frowning as she tries to think. "I'll look into where he went. I'm sure I can find where he transferred and we can -- wait. Baby Boy? Since when is Reid Baby Boy, Derek?" 

He jerks out of her arms, looking utterly confused for a moment. Baby Boy? Who on Earth said -Baby Boy-? Spence is Pretty Boy and everyone knows that. Hence the fight with Desiree about her trying to use the nickname. He shakes his head, turns to begin righting the bathroom.

"He's not, Garcia. He's Pretty Boy. Always has been." He can see her frowning, perplexed, in the mirror as he turns on the water in front of him. 

"Uhm, sugar shack, you said, and I -quote-, 'It's my fault Baby Boy's gone, Garcia.' So, when did he become Baby Boy?" He frowns down at the water, eyes narrowed to serpentine slits as he tries to comb back through his memories of their week together. Baby Boy ... oh yeah, he had called him Baby Boy so many times. Even -before- the vacation. All the way back to JJ's wedding. His eyes go wide, his hands fall to his sides and his cheeks fill with heat again.

"I .. oh man, I've been calling him that since JJ's wedding."

"Oh, you mean the wedding where you -actually- got Dr. Reid to -dance-!? We were all wondering how the hell you managed to pull that one off. But then again, most of us were also too busy drooling to think to ask." Her eyes go distant and hazy for a moment and he's so damn embarrassed. Because it's obvious that she's picturing them dancing and even now Morgan can still feel the way Reid's hips moved under his hands. How close they had swayed to each other, sharing body heat. He shivers at the memory, tells himself that he's -not- thinking the thoughts he's obviously thinking and then it all clicks into place.

"Damn it! It really -is- my fault he left, Garcia." He turns and shoves his backside against the sink counter in hopes that it will hold him up now that his legs feel like jelly. "Things got ... a little out of hand, I guess. Nothing bad or anything, just a few blurred lines. And it's obvious that he wasn't comfortable with it and rather than cause a scene he decided to leave. I can ... can respect ... that." He is trying to psych himself up. Trying to -make- it true, because he doesn't really have any other choice. He turns back toward the techy. "And no! Don't go snooping, Garcia. You could get in trouble. Besides, if Reid wanted us knowing where he was, he'd have contacted as or left word, or something. We owe it to him, to let him do this." He's babbling but it doesn't make it any less true. He means everything he's saying. Reid has the right to choose for himself and Derek is going to let him go, no matter how badly it hurts. No matter ... how much he has come to understand was actually happening between them. Though, it also seems rather obvious that whatever may have been developing between them was real, or reciprocated by Spence? 

None of these thoughts are doing him any good, though.

"Thanks for checking up on me, Garcia. I really am gonna be fine. I need to get back to work." He gives her a wane smile before he turns and heads out to his desk. He falls stiffly into his chair, staring at the file folders stacked there. He feels so damn empty, cracked open and void. Reid is gone because of him. How is he going to make this better? How had he lost the most important thing in his life??

Carefully, he does what he does best. He pushes those thoughts to the far reaches of his mind and continues on with the work at hand.


	6. Baby Boy

* * *

**_I miss you a little, I guess you could say, a little too much, a little too often, and a little more each day._  
\- Unknown**

* * *

Dr. Spencer Reid is 'home' for lack of a better word. He has made his decisions, plotted this path, and now he has to live with it. Some part of him is perfectly fine with it, of course, or he never would've decided to transfer. The -other- part of him is greatly dismayed with the foolishness of making such a big decision without stopping to properly consider the consequences.

He's staring at the doors that lead into the Sanitarium. He's been in Vegas for six months and has made it a regular habit to visit his Mom since he came back. He no longer suffers the guilt of putting her in here now that he can actually come see her. Though, he still struggles to keep his professional life from crossing with his personal one. Mom still doesn't know about Tybal and probably never will, if he has any say in the matter.

So, after a few more moments to finish waking up, he pushes the doors open and heads inside. Diana Reid is sitting at a window, head canted to the left, eyes closed as the morning sunshine breaks across her face. Sadly, this is no indicator as to what kind of day she is having. It does not tell him if she is doing good or having an episode. It's a day by day case and he always rolls with the punches as best he can. 

"Hello, Spence." Her warm, rich voice is soft and it eases every muscle in his body. A good day, then. He cannot be happier at that prospect.

"Mom." He answers just as rich and warm, fond and affectionate as he walks to her table. He lays out the items for their usual breakfast, setting his messenger bag down beside the chair he takes. "I hope your night went alright." He beams at her as he grabs the two cups of tea and adds a little honey and lemon to them before he hands one over.

"It was okay. I'm surprised to see you in so early. Don't you have work? You shouldn't shirk it just to see me, Spence." She chastises with a smile on her face and kindness in her eyes. He hates it, to some degree. Because he knows .. no matter how happy and docile now, she will change. That warmth, kindness, and happiness will be ripped away by paranoid mania and an almost blank absence when faced with her son. Those days, the bad days, they hurt so much, cut so deeply. They nearly kill him.

"I'm not Mom, I promise. I don't have to go in for a few hours, so I thought we'd have breakfast together." He sips at his tea, grimaces faintly and adds a little more sweetness. Tries so very hard not to think about Morgan and his honey crystals, but he can't. Every other moment, his mind seems partially occupied with thoughts of his best friend. Or, well, ex-best friend? He's not exactly sure what the protocol is when you move to another state and cut all communications with someone until you're ready to deal with them again. He assumes it probably nixes the status of best friend.

"Oh, how sweet of you, son." The way she speaks, it immediately puts him on edge. It's not manic or frantic, not indicative of a sudden break with reality, but something much, much worse because has had so little exposure to it, that he's never sure -how- to handle it. She's using her Mother voice. He has heard it less than a dozen times his entire life and each time puts him on edge. Dredges up a surprising amount of fear and angst, because again, he's ever adapted to it, has never learned how to maneuver her in parental mode. Each time is new and scary. This time .. well, he holds no hope that it will magically be better. "So. I've noticed something missing since you got here, Spencer." This reminds him of an interrogation. Of the way Morgan lures and baits an Unsub. Gives them statements and questions just leading enough they eventually slip up and 'hang' themselves.

"Oh? I, uh, I can't really think of anything missing." He's going for innocent and naive, probably missing it by a mile but he can't help it. He has no desire for whatever conversation she's about to try and have. Doesn't want to participate in a lecture about his personal life, or lack thereof.

"Is that so?" She puts her tea down and crosses her arms over her lap, fingers twining as she gives him that assessing stare that used to send students into fits of apology for failing to hand in assignments. He squirms vaguely under the stare, but otherwise, does nothing. Simply .. waits. "So, there's not a distinct lack of bullet points outlining the life of one SSA Derek Morgan? No little throw away tidbits about how JJ, Will, and your Godson are doing? No highlights about Hotch, Prentiss or Rossi?" Each point causes him to wince and squirm again. She's doing it. Getting right to the point and trying to draw him out. He can feel the familiar ache in his chest. The pain that is a daily testament to the fact that so many things are missing. Friends, family, love. He cut them all out when he made the move without saying goodbye to anyone. 

"Oh, right. That." He jumps to his feet, suddenly feeling like a ball of energy without any outlet. He shoves the unopened breakfast containers toward her and grabs up his cup of tea. He doesn't want it, but it's better than nothing. Part of the reinvention he silently underwent when he arrived back in town. "Well, it's good to see you again, Mom. I have to grab a few things from home before I head in for the day. Enjoy breakfast." He takes off before she can protest, knowing that she has the power to stop him in his tracks and really not prepared to do that.

* * *

Reid parks his car and groans. His head is swimming from the encounter with his Mom. From the endless questions for which he has no answers and no one to blame for the lack of them but himself. It's been six months. He could've reached out at any given moment. The only real communication with his old life are the occasional e-mails from JJ and Will, telling him that they understand, they'll be there waiting when he's ready to talk, and Henry is doing great. 

Even now, preparing to go into work, he cannot pry his mind from Morgan. No matter the time of day or what he's doing, Morgan is on his mind in some capacity, some way, always lurking there.

The minute the door opens, he feels a sense of calm wash over him. It's not the BAU but it's a place where he can utilize his talents to help.

"Well, hello there, Dr. Reid." The playful drawl of Detective Matthews always catches him off guard, despite this being a near daily ritual between them. Reid steps into the building and Matthews immediately starts flirting. As relentless and playful as Morgan had always been. The only difference is that Reid has never felt the need to respond to the detective. Not even to banter back and forth. 

"Detective Matthews." He calls back, tone friendly but not encouraging. Not that he ever needs to. "Good morning." He flashes a bit of a smile as he heads toward the little office he operates out of. His tight is Consultant, but it's a little more in-depth than that. He consults with the local PD, offering basic profiles to help catch murderers, rapists, even thieves. It's been surprisingly fulfilling, though he misses the team. Always misses them. 

"I was going to call you, if you didn't make it in soon. We've had another one, found two hours ago." Reid nearly drops his bag at the door of his office, but manages to set it on his desk before he turns to face the older man. 

"Another one? That definitely doesn't fit the pattern. Either he's devolving, or he's taken on a partner. But neither of those quite fit, either." He bites at the inside of his cheek, chokes back the words he has desperately been trying not to speak for almost three weeks now. But it's time. No matter how he feels personally, it's time. "I think .. I think it's time I make a phone call. I'll need you to sign something for me first, though." He swivels on his heel and rushes to his desk, rummaging through his drawer until he pulls out the one form he desperately never wanted to utilize. Or at least, not until he's had more time to get his head on straight. As Matthews reads the page over and signs, he stares down at his cellphone and reluctantly dials the number.

"Hello, JJ .. it's Reid. I'm calling on an official matter. I need the BAU to come to Las Vegas. I'm faxing over the local detectives request for assistance, and the case file will be ready for you when, if, you get here." He shifts uncomfortably where he sits, feeding the form into the fax machine, watching Matthews watch him with a curious eye. His eyes are always on him, though, so he's grown mostly used to it.

"... we'll be there as soon as we can, Spence. Send the address where to meet you." They hang up within moments, Reid actually trembling a little as he fumbles his cellphone back into his pocket.

"We need five copies of the file and one e-mailed to her." He writes down Garcia's information and hands it off to Matthews before he plops gracelessly into his seat. He leans back in it, rubbing his hands down his face, struggling to get a hold of himself. In a few hours time, he's going to be face to face with his old team again. He's not sure how he's going to handle that.

"So, I get to meet this infamous team of yours, huh?"

"Ex team, and don't say anything about what you think you know about them. Keep this on a professional level, Matthews." He glares at him, the kind of open, sassy glare he had always been too timid to show anyone at the BAU. If nothing else, this transfer has allowed him to blossom from he kid he was when he entered the FBI, into someone confident and sure of himself. Though yes, he is still on occasion easily embarrassed and a little shy at times, because those are part of his character that will never fully disappear. 

"Chill out, Pretty Boy. I'll keep it perfectly professional while they're here. You have my word." It feels as if all of the oxygen has been sucked from the room at those two familiar words. He's trembling as he struggles to keep it together, to try and remind himself that having Morgan and the BAU in here isn't going to change anything. He made the right decision coming here. He did.

"This is me chilled out, Matthews. And don't -ever- call me Pretty Boy again." There must be something of the proper warning and authority in his tone of voice because Matthews immediately goes still and serious.

"Sorry about that, Dr. Reid. It just slipped out. I won't call you that again." Spencer softens slightly and even manages a faint smile for the other man.

"That's okay, Mathias. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to ready the conference room for them." He turns and quickly heads off, going over every possible detail in his mind half a dozen times before he's even begun to prepare for the arrival of the BAU.

* * *

Every one is a little on edge. It's not often they enter into a case with no information to go on, nothing to examine on the jet. It leaves a bad taste of apprehension in Morgan's mouth. Leaves him feeling both leaden and jittery at the same time. He's vibrating on the inside and it's only a matter of time before the seams begin to fray and unravel.

"You must be the BAU ... I'm detective Mathias Matthews." The man is roughly 6'3 with a swims lean but muscular build. He has shoulder length black hair that he has pulled back and tied off. At a glance, he looks laid back but professional enough. Something about him puts Morgan on edge, though he's not sure.

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA David Rossi, SSA Derek Morgan, Agents Prentiss and Jareau." Aaron introduces them all and Morgan finds himself taking a page from Reid's book. He offers a nod and a mumbled greeting but he doesn't reach for the outstretched hand.

"So, where can we look over the case files?" He interrupts any further pleasantries, itching to get down to business. These past six months, he has become even more of a workaholic. All of his time is split between working on properties or working at the BAU. If he keeps himself occupied, he doesn't have time to dwell on what he's lost.

"Oh, my boy's got the conference room set up for you. He should still be in there, it's this way." Morgan's gut clenches at the words my boy, his mind immediately flashing toward his Pretty Boy, running rampant with how much he misses him. He ends up letting the others take the lead, falling behind every one as he struggles to sort his mind out. He cannot afford to fall to melancholia and maudlin thoughts of his ex-best friend right now. Not when there's a case on hand.

"S-Spence!" Prentiss' voice jars him from his thoughts and he has a moment to wonder if this is what an out of body experience feels like before he is staring straight ahead. Prentiss and Rossi have rushed forward, the first to hug, the second to shake hands. JJ smiles and hugs him, and even Hotch looks ever so pleased to see the younger man, pulling him into a rare hug. 

Morgan can't do any of that. He's still stuck on the -visual- that Spence presents. Never has the nickname Pretty Boy been more accurate. His long hair has been cut down to a boy-band style with bangs begging to be fingered. He's traded in his usual drab work attire for a black suit with a crisp white shirt and an emerald tie that would probably feel like heaven to the hands. He looks tailored and .. well gorgeous. No other word for it, just gorgeous. Morgan wants to walk up and wrap him in a hug, maybe never let him go, but he knows that he can't. Because Reid feels almost like an alien presence across the room from him.

"Hello, Pretty Boy." The fond nickname is out before he can stop it, but he is shocked to find that he really doesn't regret it. Not when Spence's eyes widen and his cheeks fill with that alluring blush that has always drawn Morgan in. He also doesn't miss the narrowing of Detective Matthews' eyes, or the way he stiffens a little at Reid's reaction.

"Hey, Der." Oh, wow. He hadn't expected something so simple to effect him so deeply. He takes in an unsteady breath and wobbles vaguely to the first chair he can find, falling into it. That seems to be the catalyst to send Reid into professional mode, because he clears his throat and grabs up a stack of file folders. "Right, then. To business." He waits for everyone to take a seat, though Morgan notes that Matthews doesn't sit. He moves to take up a protective and yet somehow dominate position beside Reid. Morgan really, -really- doesn't like this guy.

"Three weeks ago, we found a dumping ground in the desert. While that's not exactly unusual round these parts, we were unable to connect any of the victims to the Mob or anything as obvious. In fact, we haven't been able to find any information on any of the victims. The original dumping ground had seven victims. As far as we can tell, the Unsub doesn't stick to any kind of victimology. They consisted of male and female, ages 22 to 76, Oriental, Caucasian, White, and Indian." Morgan sneaks a peek at Reid, who is frowning as Matthews speaks. 

"But, as Matthews stated, it's more than just the lack of consistency in the victimology. Because somehow, -seven- people went missing and no one filed any kind of missing persons report or anything else. We have literally been able to find no information on these people. It's almost as if they never existed." Reid suddenly smiles, shy and a little self deprecating. "Of course, we also don't have Penelope Garcia, so I'm hoping she will be able to find something we couldn't." Rossi laughs at that, nodding.

"She should have the files by now, I'm sure she'll call one of us as soon as she has anything she can find." Matthews frowns and looks at Reid with a raised brow.

"I doubt she'll be able to find anything if we couldn't, Spence." 

"You'd be surprised." Reid immediately snaps back at Matthews, causing the man to look rather shocked, which is surprising to Morgan. How could the man have worked with Reid for any amount of time and not been on the receiving end of that sass? Or was he only use to it on a personal level?

His hand lifts without his permission, the heel of his palm pressing against his heart at the dull ache there. Too late .. that's all he can think. He might be too damn late to repair whatever went wrong between them. Just his luck. 

"As of several hours ago, a new victim was taken and it .. well, it doesn't make much sense. It either suggests that he's devolving at a spectacular rate, or that he's managed to take on a partner." Reid is shifting his weight from foot to foot, obviously upset, and Morgan can't really blame him.

"But that doesn't fit the profile at all. This kind of Unsub is too controlled to spiral and there's no way in hell he's about to share the spotlight with some partner." Morgan points this out, practically preening when Reid's gaze snaps toward him and he sees a measure of the same fondness that used to reside there. 

"Exactly. So, unless -- wait." Reid turns and rushes toward the white board that is covered in his sprawling script. Matthews frowns as he turns to watch.

"What is it, Spence? What did you figure out?" Reid grabs up a black marker and quickly begins to scan things written on the board ... circling words here and there before he whirls around and practically beams at Morgan.

"You're a genius, D -- Morgan!" He winces internally when Reid catches himself and switches back to the more formal address. That's the last thing he wants at the moment. "He -wouldn't- share the spotlight, but what if he's not? What if it's not a -partner-, what if it's a pupil?" Matthews snorts almost derisively, but no one is really paying him any attention.

"That makes sense, Reid. It would explain the slight inconsistencies with the newer victims as well as explain why this personality type would have acquired a partner. Because it's -not- a partner, it's his legacy. Someone to carry on for him." Rossi is nodding along, glancing back down at the file.

"Alright. Prentiss, you and Rossi accompany Detective Matthews to the latest victim's house, see what you can find that fits the victimology and the theory of a pupil. Reid, take Morgan out to the original dump site, JJ and I will stay here and see what we can find from the files." Morgan feels something flutter in his stomach, struggling not to feel -excited- at the prospect of spending time with his baby boy. Because it is wildly inappropriate given the nature of what they're supposed to be doing. 

"Hey, wait a minute! The good doctor here is just a -consultant-, there's no reason for him to be going anywhere, and where do you get off assigning anyone to do anything? This is my case, Agent Hotchner." Morgan wants to roll his eyes. Hell, he wants to do a lot more than that. He wants to puff out his chest, call Matthews out on his BS and so many other things that are far too primitive and neanderthal. 

"Shut up, Mathias." Spencer's voice is far more authoritative than anyone in the room is used to, and it garners their silent attention immediately. "Yes, I'm a consultant but I'm also a field agent. You've never suggested I stay behind before and I'm not about to start on. And yes, while it's true that this is your case, Agent Hotchner is better equipping to handle his team and assign them where they are needed. If you have a problem with that, -you- can be the one to stay behind. We are on a deadline and the only that matters is making sure this bastard doesn't kill again. Now move it." 

Yeah, okay, that's hotter than Morgan has the words to describe. Watching Reid step right up, into Matthews' personal space, nostrils flaring, brow furrowed, lips pursed with attitude. He really wants to curl up against Reid and explore so much. Feel the frantic beat of ihs adrenaline fueled heart under his lips. Trace the curves of his fuller build with his hands, find out if he's just as commanding and in charge in an intimate setting.

How the hell is he supposed to survive time alone with him!? 

".. yeah. Yeah, you're right, Spence. Sorry, babe. Lets get this show on the road." The capitulation isn't surprising, the term babe is. Morgan swallows down his anger and pain and instead, turns to head out of the conference room. So, he is too late.

* * *

The car ride is silent, stifling. Nothing like the companionable quiet they had once achieved. Reid wishes that he could say that there was a chance of that changing. Getting better. But he doubts it. Things have never been this strained between them and he isn't sure what to do to improve the situation. He's never had close enough friends that he had to try and repair anything with anyone. Does that make him just as sad and pathetic as people used to claim he was??

"... you're thinking too hard, Pretty Boy." The familiar words jolt Reid from his thoughts and he checks his rear-view mirror on instinct before he glances at Morgan in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I know. Bad habit." He flashes a tired smile before returning his focus to the road ahead. "How have you been, Morgan?" He curses internally for the awkward nature of the question. The last thing he probably wants to do is remind Morgan of the fact that he hasn't contacted him in six months, therefore has no clue how anyone is doing. But, rather than the cold shoulder he's expecting, he's treated to a surprisingly warm smile.

"I've been okay, Spence. Been keeping busy. Just flipped two houses for a nice profit. Been back to see Momma twice and she's been asking after you. Desi sent her apologies for the way she acted last time. Said .. well, she said she was nervous and ended up actin' the fool because of it." Reid actually blushes, wonders why the woman had thought she needed to be nervous over him. It's not as if he had been a significant other or even a potential one. "Garcia's been keepin' me runnin' around like mad. Every time I turn around, the woman needs something else. Can't count the amount of times we've stayed up all night." Morgan's laugh is fond and rich, silky like velvet and Reid wonders if he actually -hears- his heart break. So. Morgan and Garcia finally got together, huh? Of course they did! That was inevitable, wasn't it? 

"Wow. I mean, wow. Sounds like everything's going great." He forces cheer into his voice, switching lanes instead of screaming like he wants to. "I'm glad Garcia seems happy, too." With you. She seems happy with you and why wouldn't she be? Someone would have to be out of their damn mind not to be happy with Morgan and Reid quickly changes lanes and turns off onto a small road. Again, instead of screaming like he wants to. Or maybe breaking down into tears. "Mom's been really happy that I moved back into the area. I see her regularly now. She, uh .. she's been asking after everyone." Of course, he doesn't add that she seems to think something is off because he doesn't talk about them anymore.

"I'll bet she loves seeing you more, pretty boy. You know we all miss you, right? I mean, we understand, don't get me wrong. You did what you had to do for you, Spence, and that's cool. But we all miss you, pretty boy." He fights the urge to pull the car over to the side of the road and crawl into Morgan's lap. To beg forgiveness of his best friend, but none of that would be -appropriate-. No matter how badly he wants to.

"I, uh .. I miss you guys, too. It took me longer to get settled in than I thought it would. If the case hadn't happened .. well, I planned on calling JJ soon and then branching out to everyone else after that." Morgan would've been the first one he wanted to call, but it would've been JJ, to let her know that he was okay and that he missed his Godson. Maybe see if Henry could meet his Mom at some point. In a controlled environment, of course.

"That would've been great. Henry's been missing you, man. Will has, too. I think he misses you so much he's been trying to adopt me or something. It's a little creepy." This draws a surprised laugh from Reid and he nearly whimpers at the way Morgan lights up and preens at the sound. God, he's missed this! The easy simplicity of his friendship with Morgan has always been a thing of beauty and comfort. 

"Haha! Yeah, I can see that. Will was always a bit more paternal than one would expect. He, uh .. he was the reason I moved, actually." Morgan -growls- from the next seat before he manages to get himself under control and Reid can't help but shiver at the raw power of the sound. 

"He what!?"

"Y-yeah .. he, uh, he told me that I had to take some time and figure things out for myself instead of worrying about everyone else, for a change." Morgan turns his head, staring out the window for a moment. Reid cannot even begin to think what's going through his friend's head, but he knows better than to try and interupt his thoughts. 

"Hmm. He was right, of course." It sounds like it costs Morgan something personal to say that. "So, are you happy here?" Reid stops the car, frowning down at his hands where they are resting on the steering wheel. Is he happy?? It's a hell of a question and the answer should be simple and easy, but he just can't get anything to come out.

"Come on. We're at the dump site." He slips out of the vehicle, slides a pair of sunglasses on, and proceeds to show Morgan around.

* * *

In the end, it didn't take long. Less than 24 hours after the BAU arrived and 43 year old Jackson Grey and 17 year old Justin McKinnen were cornered in the middle of an abandoned building on the outskirts of Vegas. Grey went down, three shots to the chest, while Justin begged for his life. It seems the two had met when Grey picked McKinnen up as a potential victim and they bonded instead. The entire thing made Morgan's skin crawl, but at least they stopped the duo before anyone else died.

Which means that the team will be leaving in the next hour or so. They will be leaving Reid behind and Morgan just isn't prepared to do that. Six months without his best friend has taken a toll. But, what is he supposed to do? 

"So, Spence." Morgan stops his approach to Reid's office, forcing himself against the wall so that he cannot be seen. This is wrong. On every level. It's rude and really not right to eavesdrop, he knows this. But .. hearing Matthews call Reid Spence has him hiding and listening. Is this punishment? Is he punishing himself by listening to a private conversation? " -I'm- not allowed to call you Pretty Boy, but that agent is? When you told me not to, I assumed it was because you didn't want to be called pretty at all. Not that someone else already did." Part of Morgan preens. Damn straight this asshole didn't get to call his baby boy pretty boy. The other part of him wonders if it's because Spencer just doesn't want to be reminded that he used to be called that. 

"Yes, Mathias, someone already calls me Pretty Boy. Has for several years, in fact, so no, you're not allowed to call me that." Spence's voice is worn out, tired. He sounds .. well, he sounds like he's a few minutes from crashing and Morgan really misses the time they spent on vacation together. He still wakes up from half remembered dreams of an arm draped around his best friend, of the scent of Reid filling his nose. He shivers, eyes snapping closed as he tries to push the memories away.

"I see." There is a sigh from the detective, followed by the rustling of fabric and Morgan is trying really hard not to picture what might be going on in that office. What -he- would be doing if he were Matthews. "I'm really jealous now, Spence. He gets to call you something I don't." Morgan's hands tighten into fists and push against his thighs. 

"Really? Well, there's nothing to be jealous about, Mathias." Morgan feels as if he's been sucker punched. His fists press tighter. "Morgan is .. was ... or maybe, still is, my best friend. The best friend I've -ever- had, in fact. So, there's no reason for you to be jealous, because, well, you two aren't in the same category." Morgan stumbles away from the wall, swallowing down the pain those words cause. Of course they're not in the same category. He's Spencer's best friend, but Mathias is the one that gets to call him babe and Lord knows what else. 

"Let me take you out to dinner, Spence." That's the final nail in his emotional coffin, and the last of this conversation he can stand to hear. He turns away from the office and starts to move as quickly as he can. It's a miracle he manages to hear anything that Reid says.

"No, Mathias. I've told you how many times now? I don't want to grab dinner, get a drink, have coffee, or go to the movies with you. I'm just not interested, okay?" Morgan stops immediately, nearly stumbles over his own feet in his eagerness to hear this. So, they're not actually together?

"Really? So, what, I'm just not good enough for you? I know it's not a matter of you not liking men. Oh, wait. Don't tell me that muscle bound thug is your type, Spence. You're too smart, too good, to fall for someone like that. Why won't you just give me a chance?" 

"God, do you even listen to yourself, Mathias? No, it's not a matter of me not liking men. There are a few men I've been attracted to through out my life, and -no-, you -really- aren't one of them! I respect you professionally, but personally? No, I really don't want anything to do with you. We aren't even -friends- because you just can't back off!" More rustling and Morgan shivers at the way Reid's voice has dropped and hardened. "And if you -ever- call Derek a thug again, or imply he's somehow .. lesser .. colleague or not, I will hand you your ass on a plate, Mathias. Derek Morgan is the best man I've ever known. He's smart, he's brave, he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. He's worth a thousand of you." When Morgan hears a thunk, he turns and walks quickly for the office, prepared to wipe the floor with the detective if he's done anything to Spencer. 

"Oh please, I'd like to see you try, Pretty Boy. You might be a genius, but pound for pound, I'd tear you a new one in three seconds flat. That big brain of yours doesn't stand a chance against raw force." When Morgan rounds the corner, Reid has a hold of Matthews' shirt, hands fisted in the material. Matthews has been pushed against the wall, Reid's body covering his in a way that is surprisingly threatening coming from the slighter man.

"You mistake me, Mathias. You assume I'd come at you, fists flying. Don't count on it. No, punching you in the face wouldn't do a thing to cow you and we both know it. You'd kick my ass and then wear any damage like a badge of honor. Neanderthals like you just can't help themselves. No, I'd make sure I hit you where it hurts; your job. So back off and leave me alone." Reid carefully pulls his hands out of Mathias' shirt and takes a few steps back.

"Hey, Pretty Boy." Morgan drawls out, noticing the way that Mathias snarls at the words, the way that Reid blushes and turns to face him. Damn, he has missed that blush. Has missed everything about his friend, in fact. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Nope, nothing important at all, Der. Matthews was just leaving." They both turn to look at the detective. He smooths out his shirt and side steps them both, not bothering to say anything as he heads out of the room. After a moment, Spence turns to look at him with a small smile. "Did you need something?" 

Morgan hesitates, bites the inside of his cheek as he tries to decide how far he wants to go with this. Does he risk letting Spence know how he feels? Does he risk putting it all out there? What does he have to lose? If Spence rejects him, they're living in two different states. They will still have been strangers for the past six months and none of that would have to change. He takes a deep breath and closes the door behind him. He then advances on his friend, maneuvers around the desk until he's in Spence's personal space. 

"Actually yeah, I do. I really, really do." His voice is husky and low, a level of sensual he hasn't displayed in years, or so it feels. "You, Baby Boy. I need -you-." By the time he has managed to get the words out, he's toe to toe with his best friend. Staring into those mesmerizing eyes he has been dreaming about for six months. "It's been hell with out. You left -twice- without saying goodbye and I swear it felt like my world stopped. Just ground to a halt because every day, half a dozen times, I'd think of something, or see something, and the first thing I thought was ' Can't wait to tell Spence.' Only, I couldn't. You were gone. You ripped a hole in me, Baby Boy, but I don't care." He leans forward, breath ghosting over Reid's lips as he stares intently into his eyes. "I ain't budgin' from this spot until you tell me -why- you left, Spencer. Why you ran away and never looked back." 

Reid's doe-eyed and gasping silently for breath at Morgan's closeness. They are breathing in each others truths, sharing air and emotion. The younger man looks as if he is stuck between fight or flight and Morgan just can't allow that. He presses forward, hands suddenly flashing out to press hard against the walls, caging Reid in between his arms as he waits patiently for an answer.

"You kept calling me Baby Boy." The words register but he cannot seem to find any sense in them. They float without connection or meaning, because how in the world is that a reason to run? "You know, like you call Garcia or whatever flavor of the week, Baby Girl. I knew you didn't realize you were doing it and it was perfectly fine, of course. Because it was just words, another nickname without meaning because you use words like armor, Derek. They partition and separate and that's okay, because I get it. But then I kept waking up. In your Momma's house. With your arms around me and your breath on my neck and suddenly everything was different. You went from being this presence in my working like to breath on my neck and arms holding me together because Tybal tried to unravel me. I was tearing at the seams but you were there. Anchoring me to reality with the 3 Stooges and a hand on my ankle on the couch, and it wasn't real." Reid is rambling, trying to cram as much sense into ever word in hopes that Morgan will understand without him having to come right out and say it. "It wasn't real because I'm never going to be anyone's Baby Boy, especially not someone as wonderful as you. You're everything I told Mathias you are. Brave, smart, compassionate, just ... you're the embodiment of everything I could ever admire in any one and in what world is the spazy know-it-all meant for that? So I ran. I left the paradise of our vacation and returned to the real world on my own terms. But when Will told me that I had to do whatever I had to do for -me- I knew that I had to leave. I thought .. a few months away and this ache would finally stop, but of course it didn't. Because it's not the kind of ache that ever goes away and how could it? I think and sleep you, Derek. Every waking moment you're on my mind. Maybe not front and centre, but -there- and when I sleep, I dream about that week. What was, wasn't, could have been .. you just won't leave me alone. I think about you too much, Derek Morgan." 

By the time Reid has finished speaking, he's heaving for breath. His chest is a rapid rise and fall and it hypnotizes Morgan momentarily before he shakes himself out of his thoughts.

This .. this definitely was -not- what he had been expecting. So. Reid left because he was certain that Morgan didn't return his feelings? If he weren't afraid of scaring his friend away, he'd laugh his ass off right about now. How had it gotten so far out of control that they had gotten so turned around? Lost the path to each other?

"Spencer ... **Baby Boy** ... you are that and more." He leans forward slowly, tattoos his words against the pale flesh of Spencer's neck as he drags his nose against blushing skin. Breathes in the scent of fear and hope in equal measure. "God, Spence, I still dream about holding you. Every night on that couch I wanted to pull you into my arms and never let go. You're my Pretty Boy, my Baby Boy. You're my best friend no matter what happens, nothing's ever gonna change that. I spent six months missing you, Spencer and it didn't have to be that way. Doesn't ever have to be that way again." He leans those few scant inches, tilts his head until their lips connect in a gentle press. It's everything a first kiss should be .. awkward, beautiful, clumsy and perfect. His hands slowly slide off the wall to grip Spencer at his hips. He's immediately reminded of where this all started .. JJ's wedding. The way they had danced, the way he had clung to Spence ... he shudders. Pulls his lips reluctantly from the other man's.

"D-does this mean ..?" Reid can't bring himself to ask out loud, isn't even sure -what- he wants to ask. If this is love, like, lust, or just maybe. The sound of Morgan's mobile causes them to jump apart, both of them grinning like fools at each other.

"Morgan."

"We're out of here in an hour, Morgan." Hotch's voice is tired but with a hint of amusement in it.

"Yeah, about that .. I'll catch a plane back when I'm ready, Hotch." He glances at Reid, who's blushing deeply, peeking up at him from under his feathery lashes and Morgan aches to kiss him again. To push him against the wall and ravish his mouth. He swallows heavily. "See you later, man." He ends the call and shoves his mobile away, before pushing against Reid again. "So, looks like I need a place to stay for a few days, Spence. What do you say?" 

Reid's head ducks for a moment before his hands come to rest shyly on Morgan's hips. 

"... how would you like to see my new apartment, Der?"

"Thought you'd never ask, Baby Boy." 

**Fin**


End file.
